(Verse 1) Flashbulbs pop like a string of firecrackers In this gilded cage they built of Vogue and glass I smile right on cue for the highest bidders While the girl I used to be is fading fast They love the cheekbones, they love the silhouette They hang my face from Paris to Berlin But nobody asks what’s lingering underneath the silhouette Or what kind of ghost I’ve become within. (Pre-Chorus) My portfolio is thick, but my lungs are hollow Chasing shadows down a runway I never wanted to walk They pay me for the things that I can swallow And love me best when I don't even talk. (Chorus) Oh, I’m just a canvas for someone else’s art A painted-on smile on a quiet, breaking heart They trade my reflection for a cover page While I’m rattling the bars of this glossy cage Give me back the dirt beneath my fingernails The ragged jeans, the wind inside my sails I’d trade a thousand flashes of blinding light Just to hear my own voice in the quiet night. (Verse 2) I remember the kitchen where my mother sang Before my face belonged to the entire world Before the styling chairs and the makeup-brush clang And the relentless pressure to be a porcelain girl They cropped out my opinions, they smoothed out my flaws Until nothing was left that was purely mine Just a mannequin moving to their hollow applause Trapped inside a permanent, golden-hour design. (Pre-Chorus) My portfolio is thick, but my lungs are hollow Chasing shadows down a runway I never wanted to walk They pay me for the things that I can swallow And love me best when I don't even talk. (Chorus) Oh, I’m just a canvas for someone else’s art A painted-on smile on a quiet, breaking heart They trade my reflection for a cover page While I’m rattling the bars of this glossy cage Give me back the dirt beneath my fingernails The ragged jeans, the wind inside my sails I’d trade a thousand flashes of blinding light Just to hear my own voice in the quiet night. (Bridge) They want the poise, they want the freeze-frame grace They want the silence to match the pretty face They don't want a soul that can argue or bleed Just a ghost in couture to fulfill what they need Well, the makeup is melting, the heels are coming off You can keep all your titles, your glamour, your scoff— (Chorus) ’Cause I’m more than a canvas for someone else’s art I’m taking back the pieces of my quiet heart No more trading my life for a glossy page I’m kicking down the doors of this golden cage Give me back the dirt beneath my fingernails The ragged jeans, the wind inside my sails Keep your thousand flashes of blinding light— I’m finally speaking in the quiet night. (Outro) Hear me now. Not a muse. Not a photo. Just me.
