Room Full of Ghosts

Look, I’m leaning on the drywall, counting all the cracks

While you’re leaning on a stranger trying not to look back.

I got a sweatshirt for a shield and my phone’s at ten percent,

Wondering where the oxygen and all the "good vibes" went.

See, I’m a mess in the kitchen, I’m a wreck on the floor,

But I’m a ghost in a party once I’m headed for the door.

I’m over-analyzing every "hey" and every "hi,"

While the bass is hitting harder than the lows in my life.

(Short, percussive breaths)

I’m bad at the small talk, bad at the fake smile,

I haven't felt like "me" in a long, long while.

And honestly?

(Rhythm: Rapid-fire, mimicking the "Here" cadence)

I’d rather be at home, tucked away, all by myself

Than in a room with people worried ‘bout their social wealth.

None of you care about my wellbeing, or if I’m even breathing,

You’re just staring at the ceiling while the rest of us are bleeding.

Yeah, I’m bad at love, I’m bad at being where I’m "meant to be,"

So don’t be mad when you look up and you can’t find me.

There’s a girl in the corner crying over some guy,

And a guy in the kitchen selling everyone a lie.

I’m just a witness to the carnage, I’m the fly on the wall,

But the wall is getting crowded and I’m starting to feel small.

My bed is calling me a martyr, my pillows know my name,

But I’m stuck here in this circle playing everybody’s game.

I’m a "fixer-upper" habit, I’m a "sorry" in the dark,

But I won't find what I’m missing in a crowded parking lot.

(Slower, more melodic, like Halsey’s bridge style)

Maybe I’m the problem, maybe I’m the "stuck up" one.

Or maybe I’m just tired of pretending this is fun.

I’ve got a lot of love to give, just not to this room.

I’m a flower in the desert, you’re a party in a tomb.

Yeah, I’m bad at this.

(I’m better off alone.)

Don't check for me.

(I'm already home.)

Just some people I don't know, in a place I shouldn't be.

Yeah.