TRIGGERED (Sorry I Don’t Look Like That.)

TRIGGERED (Sorry I Don’t Look Like That.)
Loui Crow - Streaming 12/12

[INTRO]

Your hand is in my hair.
I'm falling half asleep.
The television's talking.
I'm somewhere in between.

Big bouncing boobs pop on the TV.
Me in my robe with messy hair.
She's naked in our living room.

(She's naked in our living room.)

I'm feeling wide awake now.

[VERSE 1]

I start watching your eyes
instead of the show.

I curl into myself.
Arms across my stomach.

My heart pounds
in my ears.

I run my fingers over the scars
on my face.

Her skin is smooth.
My skin has craters.
Her breasts are perky.
One of mine hangs lower.

[BUILD]

I'm sitting here all frumpy,
and she's bouncing across the screen.

[CHORUS]

I'm sorry I don't look like that.
Sorry you have to look at me.
Tell me I'm beautiful.
Tell me you only want me.

I'm sorry I don't look like that.
I'll never look like that.

Look at me.

[POST-CHORUS]

Did you see her?
Don't you wish I looked like that?
You're hiding something.
You're tired of me.

And it follows me
everywhere.

Even when I'm shopping
for myself.

[VERSE 2]

I just wanna buy
a pretty bra online.

Something lacy,
something mine.

I'm staring at the models,
wondering if
you'd want them instead.

Now she's in the
browsing history,
with the cat litter
and cookies.

So I try the store instead,
where the mannequins
look great.

Underneath harsh lights,
I'm undressing for a cruel mirror.

I try the first one on.

...and hate myself a little more.

I came here to feel pretty.
Now I wanna disappear.

I put the bra back.
Let them have the pretty things.

[BREAKDOWN]

I'm a joke for thinking
I'm sexy enough for you.

Insecure girls get cheated on.
Insecure girls get left.
Insecure girls get burned.

[PRE-CHORUS 2]

I wish I was afraid of clowns.
I'd stay away from the circus.

But all it takes is a pair of tits,
and suddenly I'm worthless.

Pretty bodies everywhere.
On televisions,
billboards,
grocery aisles,
and phone screens.

[CHORUS]

I'm sorry I don't look like that.
Sorry you have to look at me.
Tell me I'm beautiful.
Tell me you only want me.

I'm sorry I don't look like that.
I'll never look like that.

Look at me.

[BRIDGE]

Flirt with me.
I want you to.
I want you to want to.

Bear with me.
I'm having a rough minute.

[FINAL CHORUS]

I'm sorry I don't look like that.
Sorry you have to look at me.
Tell me I'm beautiful.
Tell me you only want me.

I'm sorry I don't look like that.
I'll never look like that.

Look at me.

[OUTRO]

We've circled around this
many times.

I try to keep the questions
in my mouth.

I kiss you goodnight.
I get quiet.
My thoughts get loud.

The television is off.

You fall asleep.
I'm wide awake.

I'm scared of what I'll dream.
I close my eyes.

There she is again.

They're all still there.

Loui Crow

I make music, practice mirror work, sometimes I do somatic rage fits, and small forms of magick that help me stay present and kind while things change.

I write songs for myself, my inner child, and for the woman I am becoming.
I work through old patterns, grief, and survival habits as I notice them loosening.

Sometimes I write as the Crow — that's my ideal self. Direct, unattached, protective, grounded in something older than my fear. Other voices come through too. The snake. The spider. The fly. The ghosts are the false selves I created to survive. I write as all of them, for my own self-hypnosis — unpacking who I've been so that my son can fill his days with joy and I can stop being such a reactive parent. I'm in the middle of it all. I just keep showing up.

I use Suno for vocals and instrumentals — the vocals are seeded from my own voice. I'm a disabled veteran and a stay-at-home mom.

Over the last year, I climbed an emotional ladder I didn't know I was on. Many of my earlier releases were the scream — my depression, anger, insecurity.

The last album that came out of that climb is called "Mirror, Mirror off the Wall." It starts with depression and ends with gratitude.

Much of what lives here carries the influence of Louise Hay and Abraham Hicks, especially the idea that my body listens to my thoughts — and that where I place my attention, my life follows.

I leave breadcrumbs in case anyone resonates.

Take what feeds you.
Leave the rest for the birds.

I am molting.
You are welcome here.

https://louicrow.com
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