Picky Picky

[Verse 1]

I drift ‘round dinner tables like I’m scouting for a secret,
Every scent, every shimmer—yeah, I clock it when I meet it.
Got a palate with a compass that refuses to mislead,
But the greens glare sharp and the sauces over-plead.
Shift the plate left—nah, wait—pull it back with suspicion,
‘Cause even choosing one small bite feels like a curated decision.

⸻

[Chorus]

I’m picky picky, habits run deep and sticky,
Tastebuds stubborn, rhythm slow and picky.
If it don’t feel right, I’m not gonna pick it—
Yeah, I’m picky, picky-picky, unapologetically picky.

⸻

[Verse 2]

Crunch too sharp? I’m gone. Texture wrong? I retreat,
And the velvet-soft stuff? Nope—too tame, too sweet.
I keep a checklist tucked in a half-worn note,
Where the bold flavors rise and the bland ones never float.
I weigh every bite with my quiet intuition,
Even simple meals spark a private inquisition.

⸻

[Chorus]

I’m picky picky, habits run deep and sticky,
Tastebuds stubborn, rhythm slow and picky.
If it don’t feel right, I’m not gonna pick it—
Yeah, I’m picky, picky-picky, unapologetically picky.

⸻

[Bridge]

Call it callous, call it cultured, call it taste refined by time,
But my appetite’s a compass with a strangely steady line.
I’ll try something new when the moment settles right,
When the vibe’s calm, warm, and the flavors feel polite.
Till then I linger, choosing slow, choosing clear,
Following the quiet voice my senses always steer.

⸻

[Chorus]

I’m picky picky, habits run deep and sticky,
Tastebuds stubborn, rhythm slow and picky.
If it don’t feel right, I’m not gonna pick it—
Yeah, I’m picky, picky-picky, unapologetically picky.

Intense, irregular melody, mature tone, faster paced