Under the Glass

Verse 1 They take pictures of the edges where I used to be, crop the quiet out and hang a smile above the teeth. They say the light looks kinder now, they say the lines are gone, like folding up a story till it fits into the frame. Prechorus I keep my hands between the glass and what I feel, so no one sees the small things that I still need to heal. Chorus Don’t tell me the brightness fixed me, this is not a fix, I learned to fold my sorrow like a letter into trick. Say what you want about the surface — I am not a scene, I’m breathing in the parts you can’t (that you can’t) read. Verse 2 There’s a mirror on the set that shows what sells the best, words like velvet wire pull a curtain over rest. They ask if I’m lighter now, I answer like a ghost — some pieces leave, some pieces learn to hold you close. Prechorus So let them shout the catch-words, let them choose a line, I’ll keep the quiet catalogue that no one signs. Chorus Don’t tell me the brightness fixed me, this is not a fix, I learned to fold my sorrow like a letter into trick. Say what you want about the surface — I am not a scene, I’m breathing in the parts you can’t (that you can’t) read. Bridge (soft build — strings enter, vocal rises slightly) If you think the shape is happiness then you’ve never listened long, I carry small revolutions in the silence of my songs. Pull close, or pull away — both ways I learn my name, this chest is not a billboard, it’s a map of what remains. Final Chorus (more layered, harmonies, subtle percussion) Don’t tell me the brightness fixed me, this is not a fix, I learned to fold my sorrow like a letter into trick. Say what you want about the surface — I am not a scene, I’m breathing in the parts you can’t, I’m breathing in the parts you can’t read.