Lyric

I’m not Freud

I don’t think about sex all day

I’m not Adler

I lack the guts to live that way

I’m not Picasso

Can’t switch my style every year

I’m not Dalí

Can’t sell my chaos like it’s sincere

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Yeah, you’re right

You’re not Freud, you’re just bored

Not Adler either

You just read one quote and got absorbed

You’re not Picasso

You just hate commitment and change

You’re not Dalí

You’re weird, sure — but not that strange

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I’m not Freud

Not everything’s trauma in disguise

I’m not Adler

“Courage to be disliked”? I just apologize

I’m not Picasso

Can’t paint desire into art

I’m not Dalí

I don’t praise myself at the start

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You hide behind names

Dead men, dead fame

Drop theory like alibis

So you don’t have to say your name

You don’t fear being hated

You fear being seen

It’s safer to quote history

Than admit what you mean

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But I’m me

Yeah, unfortunately me

I know

I live with it daily

No genius, no decree

Just noise, doubt, and honesty

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I’m not Modigliani

I don’t look good when I’m broke

I’m not Van Gogh

I don’t write letters, I just choke

I’m not Egon Schiele

I don’t chase danger or youth

I’m not Seurat

Too many dots, I like the truth

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Truth?

You run from it fast

You call it “being modest”

I call it scared of the past

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I’m not great

I’m not brave

No, you’re not

But you stay

Not a legend, not a case

Just two flaws sharing space

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Stop saying who you’re not

Tell me who you are