2. ON MY KNEES – Lyrics

Coercion & Consent · Freeze / Fawn · Shame Scripts · Survival Intelligence
(Scroll down for lyrics)

On My Knees is about the years where “no” didn’t feel like an option.

I didn’t write this song from a single memory. I wrote it from a pattern.
A posture.
An almost habitual position I kept finding myself in long before I knew how to name it.

For a long time, I thought being “easy-going” was a personality trait.
I thought being agreeable meant I was loving.
I thought staying calm meant I was safe.

What I was actually doing was surviving.

I learned early that “no” could escalate things.
That discomfort in men often landed on women as punishment. And, in my experiences, they’ll usually do it anyway.
That compliance sometimes felt safer than resistance—not because it was right, but because it shortened the danger.

So I said yes.
I softened my voice.
I laughed at things that scared me.
I got on my knees.
I learned how to disappear while my body stayed present.

This song lives inside that logic.

THE LANGUAGE LAYER — WHEN “YES” ISN’T CONSENT

One of the hardest things I’ve had to unlearn is the idea that consent is only about words.

On paper, consent looks clean:
Did you say yes or no?

In my body, it was messier.

There were years where my mouth said “sure” while my chest collapsed.
Where my hands went cold.
Where I dissasociated and hoped it would be over fast.
Where I smiled automatically while my gut slammed the brakes.

That’s not desire.
That’s freeze and fawn.

I didn’t know then that politeness can be a trauma response.
That obedience can grow out of fear, not love.
That submission is often learned, not chosen.

When I wrote the line:

“They think ‘no’ means keep trying / I say ‘yes’ like it’s surviving”

I was naming a translation error between body and culture.

THE POSTURE LAYER — WHAT “ON MY KNEES” REALLY MEANS

This song isn’t only about sexual moments.
It’s about a position I learned to take in relationships, conversations, rooms.

On my knees looks like:

• apologizing before I’ve done anything wrong

• managing other people’s emotions before checking my own

• shrinking my needs so no one gets upset

• staying “pleasant” while something inside me panics

• mistaking endurance for intimacy

Kneeling became a habit.
Not devotion—conditioning.

That’s why the hook mattered so much to me:

“I wasn’t kneeling.
I was waiting to rise.”

Because even in those moments, something in me was watching.
Learning.
Remembering.

THE CULTURE LAYER — WHAT I WAS TAUGHT ABOUT WOMEN AND MEN

I grew up inside a script that framed male desire as inevitable and female discomfort as negotiable.

I was taught—explicitly and implicitly—that:

• men “can’t help themselves”

• women are responsible for managing that

• fear is something to be smoothed over, not listened to

• saying no is rude, dramatic, or dangerous

• being chosen is proof of worth

So when men crossed lines, the question wasn’t “Why did he do that?”
It was “Why didn’t she stop it?”

This song pushes back on that script—not by shouting, but by telling the truth quietly enough that it can’t be dismissed as hysteria.

THE BODY LAYER — DISAPPEARANCE AS SURVIVAL

Some of the most honest lines in this song came from noticing what my body learned to do automatically:

“I float above while he rewrites me”
“I tuck my pain in a purse like my keys”

Dissociation didn’t feel dramatic.
It felt practical.

Leaving my body was how I stayed alive inside it.

For a long time, I thought that meant I was weak.
Now I understand it meant my nervous system was doing its job.

THE MIRROR LAYER — WHAT CHANGED

Writing On My Knees wasn’t about reliving pain.
It was about correcting the record.

I’m no longer interested in telling these stories in a way that makes me smaller or more palatable.

This song is where I stop confusing compliance with love.
Where I stop calling fear “chemistry.”
Where I stop blaming my younger self for adapting to a world that didn’t offer her safety.

The last line matters to me because it tells the truth my body has been carrying all along:

I wasn’t kneeling.
I was waiting to rise.

THINGS I LEARNED WHILE WRITING THIS SONG

• Freeze and fawn are the most common responses to sexual threat

• Many survivors stay polite because escalation feels more dangerous than endurance

• Being “easy-going” is often a trauma adaptation, not a personality trait

• Consent lives in the body, not just the mouth

• Silence doesn’t mean agreement—it often means fear

Learning these things didn’t make me feel empowered at first.
It made me grieve.

But it also helped me stop turning my survival against myself.

WHY THIS SONG EXISTS IN GORGEOUS

On My Knees sits early in the album because it explains a lot of what follows.

It explains why I stayed.
Why I endured.
Why I mistook terror for love.
Why leaving took longer than outsiders think it “should have.”

A NOTE TO THE LISTENER

I write these songs for myself.
I write because my memory is fragmented and this is how I stitch pieces together.
I don’t remember most of my childhood. I don’t remember large sections of my adult life. What you hear here are the parts that survived intact enough to share.

If you’re reading this, thank you for staying with it.

I know a lot of listening happens quietly.
The Spotify and other streaming platform stats show me that.
Even when the room feels empty, I know bodies are hearing these words somewhere.

I don’t need applause.
I needed the pain to leave my body.

Suno let me hear my own words sung back to me when I never thought I’d have the courage to sing or dance or take up space like that. If you’re someone who buried those dreams early, I can’t recommend it enough. I still daydream about learning these songs and singing them myself on stage someday—but honestly, it doesn’t matter who carries the sound. I just needed the truth out.

If any of these lyrics feel familiar, you’re not broken.
You were buried.

And if you were taught not to “air dirty laundry,” I want to say this gently:

Washing and drying isn’t betrayal.
Silence almost killed me.

LYRICS:

[Intro]
She didn’t say no.
She was asking for it.
She’s a tease.
What was she wearing?

[Verse 1]
They think “no” means keep trying.
I say “yes” like it’s surviving.
They think fear is foreplay.
I know they’ll do it anyway.
They call me a tease.
And I freeze
On my knees, just praying it’ll pass—
Begging, please—make it fast.
I think obedience proves I’m love.
I wear submission like a glove.
I laugh, hoping it’ll pacify it.
They just like me better quiet.
I flinch, and they keep going.
Sewing me shut while the ache keeps growing.
How do you say no,
when you’re scared of every man you know?

[Hook]
On my knees, I’m a monster with a pretty mouth
Love me please, a martyr with perfect posture
On my knees, no armor and I won’t lash out
Love me please, I’m the offer like a lost daughter
On my knees, lips stay gridlocked on a city route
Love me please, haunted mirror where the gasp comes loud
I wasn’t kneeling.
I was waiting to rise

[Verse 2]
“No” makes them angry.
So I put them first, never me.
I soften my tone when I feel the snap.
Say “sorry” like armor, like it’s part of the trap.
They say I’m dramatic—“It’s just how guys are.”
I laugh it off, then cry in the car.
They praise the chase while I brace my skin.
I give fake smiles while I cave in
They say “Don’t ruin the mood.” So I play along.
Bite my tongue so he still feels strong.
I learned to leave without the scream
I float above while he rewrites me
I tuck my pain in a purse like my keys.
I smooth my voice into something he needs.
They call it love. I call it fear.
I call it survival when I disappear.

[Bridge]
They mistook my hunger for weakness
But I was studying the choir
They mistook my survival for service.
But I was gathering the fire.
On my knees—they built their throne
On my knees—I built new doors
On my knees—I rose alone
On my knees — but I was never theirs

[Hook]
On my knees, I’m a monster with a pretty mouth
Love me please, a martyr with perfect posture
On my knees, no armor and I won’t lash out
Love me please, I’m the offer like a lost daughter
On my knees, lips stay gridlocked on a city route
Love me please, haunted mirror where the gasp comes loud
I wasn’t kneeling.
I was waiting to rise

[Outro ]
Knees on the ground, Eyes on the sky
I wasn’t kneeling.
I was waiting to rise

🖤 CROW BLESSING
May the parts of you that learned to kneel feel your spine again.
May your voice return without asking permission.
May what kept you alive stop being used against you.
A black wing rests on the wire—watching, remembering.