Outside My Own Skin

[Verse 1]
Leaned back in this plastic chair
Watching flicker on the wall
Old home movies in my head
But I don't remember them at all
Frozen in a hospital gown
Birthday cake
Twenty-three
Everyone is saying my name
It's like they’re talking over me
[Pre-Chorus]
I see my hands
But I feel nothing in them
Mouth moves slow
Like I'm reading lines again
[Chorus]
It's like I'm watching my life from the outside
Face in the glass
But I can't get in
Hear my own laughter
See my own smile
But I don't feel anything
It's like I'm watching my life from the outside
Crowded room
But I'm not there with them
Rewind
Fast-forward
I keep on sliding
Past the part where I fit in
[Verse 2]
Dinner plates and dead blue screens
Half the night just disappearing
Scrolling past the best years yet
Like somebody else's clearing
I see a boy on a rusted swing
Kicking clouds
Skin on fire
Somewhere I misplaced that heat
Under layers of quiet wires
[Pre-Chorus]
Call my phone
Just to hear a voice ring
Hear that tone
Wonder who is answering
[Chorus]
[Bridge]
[low vocal register]
If I touch the frame
Will it shatter? (tell me)
If I step through
Do I stay the same?
If I scream my name in the theater
Will the reel burn up
Will it change?
[crescendo]
Pull me back into the scene
Let the sound rush in again
I don't want to be the ghost
Drifting past my own skin
[Chorus]

Slow-build indie-cinematic ballad: close, breathy male vocal over sparse piano and soft, swelling strings. First verse almost a whisper with roomy reverb; dynamics rise each section as low strings and distant percussion thumps enter. Chorus opens into wide, emotional belts with doubled vocals and airy pads. Final pass strips back to piano and a single cello line, ending on a hanging chord and fading vocal ad-lib., deep, male vocals, slow, raw