THE LOCK AIN’T WHAT IT USED TO BE

I got pretty good at building doors,

Putting deadbolts on what hurt before,

Anger in a box, frustration in a drawer,

Turn the key and never talk about it anymore.

Every backstab added another chain,

Every “I’ll be there” that never came,

I learned to keep my feelings underneath,

Smile on my face, lock behind my teeth.

They’d hand me answers when I needed ears,

Give me their advice instead of hearing my fears,

So I stopped knocking, stopped asking why,

Kept every storm locked up inside.

But the lock ain’t what it used to be,

I finally found the key to letting somebody see,

I don’t have to hide every scar I carry,

Don’t have to hold the weight of everybody.

I still turn the lock when the world gets loud,

Still keep some pieces underneath the ground,

But I ain’t living like a prisoner anymore,

I know who’s real when they walk through my door.

Yeah, the lock ain’t what it used to be.

Some friends were keys that never fit,

Promised they would stay, then disappeared with it,

Some only listened long enough to tell me what to do,

Never stopped to ask what I was going through.

So I became a house with the curtains drawn,

Nobody knew what was going on,

I thought being strong meant never letting go,

Never letting anybody see the man below.

Then somebody stayed when I couldn’t explain,

Didn’t try to fix me, didn’t judge the pain,

Just sat beside me and let silence speak,

And somehow that made it easier to breathe.

Now the lock ain’t what it used to be,

I finally found the key to letting somebody see,

I don’t have to hide every scar I carry,

Don’t have to hold the weight of everybody.

I still turn the lock when the world gets loud,

Still keep some pieces underneath the ground,

But I ain’t living like a prisoner anymore,

I know who’s real when they walk through my door.

Yeah, the lock ain’t what it used to be.

I’m awake now, and I finally understand,

Real friends don’t fix you—they just hold your hand.

And the one who loves me sees what’s underneath,

So I’m leaving little pieces of the lock’s key.

The lock ain’t what it used to be,

There’s a little more light coming through the cracks in me,

I still hide a little, yeah, sometimes I do,

Old habits don’t disappear just because you see the truth.

But I’m opening doors I kept shut for years,

Letting somebody hear the things I used to fear,

I ain’t throwing every key away anymore,

I know who’s real when they walk through my door.

I still got a lock, but it don’t own me,

I decide who gets the key.

So if you see me quiet, don’t assume I’m gone,

I’m just learning how to leave the door unlocked.

I spent years hiding everything inside,

Now I’m learning it’s okay to let somebody see what’s behind.

The lock ain’t gone…

It just ain’t as strong as it used to be.