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