Loophole
I'm a little OCD
My closet looks like Crayola, it's perfect to a T
I get anxious and I'd kill for some relief
The problems of the world hit my chest
I cannot breathe so I no longer watch tv
Specifically the news, mayhem bursting at the seems
I talk too much, get distracted quickly
I have the right intentions but I'm word vomiting
Doctor, medicate me
You possess quick remediation for my stress
I digress, the drugs will hold me down for now
There's a line between deliverance and schemes, and
I'm walking the tightrope, if I jump it I might choke
You wanna be free, but you see there's work you must complete
While you're searching for your soul don't get stuck in the loophole
I'm closed off behind the scenes
Though quick to crack a smile they deem me wild and free
It gets lonely, forever in my head it seems
I try to share my side but get defensive quickly
So, I swallow this side of me
Could probably teach a lesson on compartmentality
I like big groups, not the one on one thing
Less pressure to address the need of my souls' reprieve
Doctor, listen to me
Can I rest on your lounging chair and tell you my mess
Please assess my symptoms they say I'm oppressed
There's a line between deliverance and schemes, and
I'm walking the tightrope, if I jump it I might choke
You wanna be free, but you see there's work you must complete
While you're searching for your soul don't get stuck in the loophole
My body is my enemy
The skin has stretched and time has bested me, humbly
Flesh is lumpy I guess in ways it ought to be
But that girl keeps her figure tight - a momma of three
So, something must be wrong with me
They told me I was different back in elementary
That might explain several things I believe
I wish we'd stop assigning value to pretty things
Doctor, grab your fancy scissors and pen
Mark me, carve me up a new silhouette
Help me fit into the beautiful abys
My closet looks like Crayola, it's perfect to a T
I get anxious and I'd kill for some relief
The problems of the world hit my chest
I cannot breathe so I no longer watch tv
Specifically the news, mayhem bursting at the seems
I talk too much, get distracted quickly
I have the right intentions but I'm word vomiting
Doctor, medicate me
You possess quick remediation for my stress
I digress, the drugs will hold me down for now
There's a line between deliverance and schemes, and
I'm walking the tightrope, if I jump it I might choke
You wanna be free, but you see there's work you must complete
While you're searching for your soul don't get stuck in the loophole
I'm closed off behind the scenes
Though quick to crack a smile they deem me wild and free
It gets lonely, forever in my head it seems
I try to share my side but get defensive quickly
So, I swallow this side of me
Could probably teach a lesson on compartmentality
I like big groups, not the one on one thing
Less pressure to address the need of my souls' reprieve
Doctor, listen to me
Can I rest on your lounging chair and tell you my mess
Please assess my symptoms they say I'm oppressed
There's a line between deliverance and schemes, and
I'm walking the tightrope, if I jump it I might choke
You wanna be free, but you see there's work you must complete
While you're searching for your soul don't get stuck in the loophole
My body is my enemy
The skin has stretched and time has bested me, humbly
Flesh is lumpy I guess in ways it ought to be
But that girl keeps her figure tight - a momma of three
So, something must be wrong with me
They told me I was different back in elementary
That might explain several things I believe
I wish we'd stop assigning value to pretty things
Doctor, grab your fancy scissors and pen
Mark me, carve me up a new silhouette
Help me fit into the beautiful abys
Credits
Writer(s): Christen Stevens
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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