Pretty Privilege, Pretty Prison

[ Lyrics ]

Pretty prison — can’t age, can’t change.

Silk on the hanger, same shade I wore last June,
even my shadows look staged in this room.
Barista asks how I’ve been — same face, same name,
I say 'fine' like it fits, not a crack in the frame.
Plucked my brows too early, trained my laugh to be light,
bought the creams that promise time won’t bite.
They tell me I’m lucky — yeah, I’ve heard that refrain,
but luck don’t explain this cold in my veins.

One bad day? They’ll call it a downfall.
One tired look? Assume I’m lost now.
So I smooth my skin like I’m erasing the proof —
that beauty’s a full-time job, and I’m barely keeping up.

Pretty prison — can’t age, can’t change,
locked in a glow they say I must maintain.
Smile like it’s easy, cry when the lens blinks out —
every soft line’s a betrayal they’ll talk about.
Pretty privilege, pretty prison, same chain,
I wear the gold, but I feel the weight.

Saw a girl at the market with sun in her curls,
laughing loud, unapologetic, not worried with pearls.
She had coffee on her lip, wind in her jeans,
looked free in a way that cut through my screens.
I touched up my gloss in the reflection of glass,
thought, 'God, I miss being messy — thought, 'I can't go back.'
They love me polished, poised, and serene —
let 'em want the version I’m paid to be.

One real tear? They’ll call it a stunt.
One quiet week? Think I’ve come undone.
So I paint my composure, layer by layer, each night —
a masterpiece that feels more like a sentence to recite.

Pretty prison — can’t age, can’t change,
locked in a glow they say I must maintain.
Smile like it’s easy, cry when the lens blinks out —
every soft line’s a betrayal they’ll talk about.
Pretty privilege, pretty prison, same chain,
I wear the gold, but I feel the weight.

They don’t see the hours — the lighting, the angles,
the way I hold my breath just to look untroubled.
The filter on my mirror, the fear when I gain,
how a compliment cuts when it’s tied to the frame.
I’m not afraid of wrinkles — I’m afraid of being unseen,
of trading my soul just to stay the fantasy machine.

Pretty prison — can’t age, can’t change,
locked in a glow they say I must maintain.
Smile like it’s easy, cry when the lens blinks out —
every soft line’s a betrayal they’ll talk about.
Pretty privilege, pretty prison, same chain,
I wear the gold, but I feel the weight.

Can’t age… can’t change…

I was always more.