Verse 1
My perception is a movie
that I play behind my eyes,
all the scenes cut from my childhood,
all the fears I never tried.
Every word you say gets filtered
through the stories in my head,
so I swear I know your motives
when I barely heard what you said.
Pre-Chorus
I’ve been living in a fortress
built with “this is how it is,”
but the walls are made of moments
that don’t speak for all of this.
Chorus
Perception is the piece of truth
that I decide is all of you,
it’s the script I wrote in private
and then called it “absolute.”
Perspective is another seat,
a higher row, a different street,
where I surrender being certain
just to learn what you might see.
One I own and never question,
one I loosen, one I bend—
if I’m willing to change my angle,
I might finally understand.
Verse 2
My perception calls it “danger”
any time I feel exposed,
so I armor up with judgment
just to not feel out of control.
But your story has a history
that my senses never knew,
and my eyes can’t hold the context
of the roads that carried you.
Pre-Chorus
So I’m learning I can’t love you
from the safety of my side,
gotta walk into your weather
and feel your rain for a while.
Chorus
Perception is my first reaction,
how it lands inside my chest,
all the bias and the background
calling “this is for the best.”
Perspective is the sacred pause,
where I lay my weapons down,
ask, “What else could this be saying?”
instead of “Look how I feel now.”
One I grip like it’s survival,
one I open like my hand—
when I trade a little “certain”
for a chance to understand.
Bridge
There are doors of perception
I have polished my whole life,
but they only show reflections
of my lonely point of sight.
If I step out of the mirror,
take a seat where you have sat,
I might see the same old moment
as a different kind of map.
Tag
I can keep my little island,
or I can sail and touch your shore—
one is comfort, one is growing,
one is less and one is more.
Final Chorus
Perception is the voice that says,
“They’re against you, stay on guard,”
perspective asks a softer question,
“Could their journey just be hard?”
Perception keeps me in my corner,
fists up, always needing proof,
perspective sits with you in silence
’til your version of the truth.
One belongs to who I’ve been,
one belongs to who I’ll be—
every time I change my vantage,
I set both of us more free.
Outro
So when my feelings shout “reality”
and paint you as the enemy,
I’ll remember there’s another seat
that I can choose to take—
and let perspective
reshape me.
Eduardo_Javier
