Call Me Frankenstein.

I woke up stitched together by opinions I didn’t earn

She said, “This looks better on you,” then watched me never learn

New habits in my pockets, new guilt inside my shoes

She kept the lightning for herself, I just kept the screws

Call me Frankenstein, baby, something isn’t right

Built out of “fix me,” “change me,” under flickering gaslight

I used to know my face, I used to like my mind

Now I’m waving at a mirror like, buddy, who designed you?

She said I needed thicker skin, then took it for the day.

Told me who I was before was getting in the way

I laughed it off, I shuffled on, I tried to be polite

Now I flinch when someone says my name without a fight

Call me Frankenstein, look at this parade

Every part of me was chosen, every flaw was handmade

I don’t chase villagers, I just pace at night

Wondering when I stopped feeling wrong and started feeling assembled

Now it’s funny in Toledo

Chuckle to survive

If you ask me how I’m doing, I’ll say, “Man, I’m fine”

But my laugh has got a limp and my smile’s doing time

If you hear a thunderclap, that’s just me putting it together

Trying to steal myself back from the parts that didn’t weather

I don’t need a corrector, don’t need stitches anymore

Just give me back the guy I was before I hit the floor

Call me Frankenstein, but I’m learning who I am

Not the parts you rearranged, not your half-finished plan

I may creak when I move, but I’m still alive

And I’m done letting anyone else decide how I survive