Orchid Skin - Lyrics

Title: Orchid Skin - Track 6 of GORGEOUS album
Artist: Loui Crow
Streaming: All platforms
📱 TikTok/FB/Youtube/IG: @louicrow

This isn’t just about the bad tinder date.

This song is the hours after the assault.

Mirror, tile, throat clock. Flashback inside flashback.

This song lives where survival lands: the bathroom floor.

PTSD presses play; nights overlay nights.

I breathe my way back.

🖤 ABOUT THE SONG

This is a true story. They all are.

(Scroll down for lyrics)

A Tinder profile said twenty. The knock at my door was forty-five. Loud. Pushy. Coke in his pocket. I’d never done it. He knew where I live. I froze. I said yes because I was scared of what “no” might cost.

Night stretches like rubber. Coke makes me wired and hollow at once. He keeps asking. I keep obeying. My body goes quiet to survive. I smile because it’s safer. Inside, the clock in my throat won’t stop.

Flashbacks stack over the room like glass plates. A smell, a laugh, and I drop through a trapdoor—old nights overlay this one. Chest clamps. Hands shake. Breath goes thin. I hold the sink. Right eye in the mirror. I count four. I stay.

He is loud. He is demanding. I do what he says. I am afraid to ask him to leave. My head is full of cocaine and I’ve never done it before. Hours blur. My rug holds his laugh. My ribs hold the panic. The film replays while I stand very still.

Morning finally crawls in. We never slept. He wants more.

I cant.

🔥What Freeze/Fawn Really Is

Freeze is the handbrake my body yanks without asking.
Fawn is the mask that buys me minutes.
Anxiety is sand in the lungs, glass in the breath.
PTSD is the click-track in my throat that won’t mute.
Coke doesn’t erase terror; it paints speed over it. It amplifies it.

I held still to stay alive. I counted breaths to come back.

🗣️ Crow Affirmation
I love this body first.

🖤 CROW TRUTH
I smiled so I wouldn’t bleed.
I obeyed so I wouldn’t die.
I puked and changed the locks
The mirror knows who survived.

🩸 ABOUT THE ALBUM — GORGEOUS

This is Track 6 of my debut album: GORGEOUS — a 16-song exorcism of rape culture, obedience training, beauty distortion, and the blueprint they buried in girls told to stay quiet and look pretty. All true stories (blurred for safety).

A holy revolt in sixteen songs.
Each track is a confession and a return.
A scream in the throat of every woman who flinched and got told it was flirting.
It’s the sound of memory with the volume all the way up.
Not just what happened—what it did.

Track 1: GORGEOUS — The glitter trap. The poisoned compliment. Date rape as a debut. “Why’d she get in the truck?” She was never asked what she wanted—only judged for how late she got home.
Track 2: ON MY KNEES — Freeze response dressed in manners. The martyr voice they praise. The pretty mouth they use. She’s not praying; she’s gathering fire.
Track 3: REMEMBER I’M HIM — The predator’s prayer. I write from his side. He calls it art. The frame is a trap; the camera is a gag. The lens was a leash. The flash was a freeze.
Track 4: GRIP — When silence is survival. When God is the gag. Threats, vanished names, the bruise behind the joke. What obedience looks like when it’s holy and haunted.
Track 5: ENOUGH — The last attempt. Ten men got away with it; I used to go limp. This time I moved. I rose. He didn’t follow me home—I let him in. I didn’t go quiet. I didn’t stay still.
Track 6: ORCHID SKIN — Tinder lie. Coke night. Bathroom mirror. Panic, flashbacks, breath math. I survive the night and tell it now.

The rest is coming. One song a week. Sixteen mirrors. Sixteen ghosts. Sixteen locks unlatching. GORGEOUS is the door. I’m the one holding it open.

LYRICS — ORCHID SKIN

[Verse 1]
A knock hits wood. Cologne hits first.
Mirror catches me; heat climbs fast—anxiety bursts.
Every tremor turns thorn; it remembers his hands on my skin.
PTSD tick-clicks in my throat—mind spins, room spins
Doorway voice—sharp thread—memories lock to a line—
One figure at my door; old chains bite my spine.
Orchid Skin. I stiffen. Comply.
Tinder date wrote “20”; he shows up forty-five.
Cocaine-buzz bulldozes; he presses; I do some.
Glass grips my face; my jaw starts to drum.
His chatter’s a jackhammer drilling through skin,
Every laugh too loud; every grab pulls me in.
My dress snags a splinter; his breath brushes teeth.
The mirror blinks slow. I hold the scream underneath.

[Pre-Chorus]
Bathroom light. Right eye. I stay.
PTSD taps in my throat—okay.
Hands on the sink; my jaw says “stay.”
Orchid skin breathes while the trauma replays.

[Hook]
Orchid Skin — anxiety sand, lungs sink in.
Orchid Skin — PTSD, cold clock under my chin.
Orchid Skin — panic hits hard; the room spin.
Hands on the sink; I ride it—I stay.
Right eye steady; count four—don’t sway.
Breath back in ribs; I’m here. I’m okay.

[Verse 2]
Air tastes like pennies—fears crawl.
Fan-hiss above; cold tile crawls—salt-wet tears fall.
Palms slick quick; my vision narrows tight.
Old code boots up; I fade out of sight.
My hallway smells like cocaine sweat and old thoughts;
His laugh stains the rug; I fold and I’m lost.
Flashbacks inside flashbacks—stacked in my head.
This night, those nights, all the words I never said.
I do what he says. My skull goes numb.
The clock in my throat keeps hitting its drum.
I count till sunrise—the cyclone won’t stop.
Pretty is a prison with a floral top.
“I need to puke.” I say it again.
Ten minutes to pry the door from the man.
I get him out. Lock clicks. I drop to tile.
I gag, I cry; the tremors take a while.
The mirror watches. The orchid breathes.
I strip the blossom; I steady the leaves.
I change the lock. I tend my skin.
Hands on the sink till my own eye lets me in.

[Hook]
Orchid Skin — anxiety sand, lungs sink in.
Orchid Skin — PTSD, cold clock under my chin.
Orchid Skin — panic hits hard; the room spin.
Hands on the sink; I ride it—I stay.
Right eye steady; count four—don’t sway.
Breath back in ribs; I’m here. I’m okay.

[Outro]
Orchid Skin—old fear bites at a knock on my door.
I love this body first; my answer’s no more.