He’s the loudest thing in a quiet room
Walks like the floor owes him something
Cologne like a verdict, smile like a courtroom
Always performing, never once becoming
Spent his twenties being right about everything
Spent his thirties making sure you knew
Now he’s got a story for every conversation
And the story’s always somehow about you
Turning into him
He said I’m not arrogant
I’m just correctly confident
Like there’s a difference
When you’re choking on it
Peacock on the pavement
Spreading all his colors for a crowd that stopped watching
Peacock on the pavement
Beautiful and hollow and completely self-sufficient
Yeah he don’t need nobody
Nobody, nobody
Just the sound of his own name
Echoing back from everything
There’s a photograph of him at twenty-three
Laughing at something real for the last time
Before the armor locked around the softness
Before the performance swallowed the sublime
Now every handshake is a transaction
Every compliment a stone to build the throne
The saddest part isn’t the ego
It’s how good he got at being alone
While surrounded
He said I don’t need their approval
I said man you built a church around it
There’s a difference between freedom
And just never quite admitting
And somewhere underneath the performance
There’s a kid who just wanted someone to say
You’re enough
Not for what you’re carrying
Not for what you’ve built or broken or displayed
Just — enough
But that kid’s been quiet for so long now
He forgot the language
And the man up top
Just keeps on spreading his feathers
For an audience of mirrors
That never
Clap back
Peacock on the pavement
Rain’s coming down now
Colors bleeding out on the concrete
Nobody’s watching
Nobody’s watching
Nobody
Was ever
Really watching