Pleasure got me folding under pressure
Bella Cherry makes ambition look like pleasure
Camera flash, everybody wants a piece of you forever
I’d break down crying by take two altogether

Two dicks, one butt plug, bright white lights
And still hitting every camera right
That’s not sex, that’s Olympic sport
With emotional side effects attached for sure

No amount of money
No VIP fame
Could convince him he’d survive
A single shooting day

You could never pay me enough
No, seriously, run it up
He would crack beneath the pressure
Need a therapist and better luck

Porn stars are built like military grade
Meanwhile he cries when plans get changed
I’m too soft, too stressed, too weak
God bless them, couldn’t be me

Then the movie hit me with
A different kind of shame
Why did he recognize those men
And know them all by name?
He almost whispered “Wait, that’s—”
Then stopped himself halfway
Sitting in that silent theater
Feeling spiritually flayed

Some secrets die in darkness
Some die in shame
His died the second
I started naming names

You could never pay me enough
Not a bonus, not a truck
That whole industry would flatten him
By lunchtime I’d be done and stuck
Everybody chasing stardom
Everybody chasing buzz
Meanwhile he’s clutching his soda like
“Honestly, respect to y’all because…”

Do not watch this with your mother
That’s my public service speech
Trigger warnings longer than receipts
And scenes that linger for weeks

It’s intense in ways that sneak up slow
Under glossy lights and afterglow
Not even shocking just… too real
About what people trade to feel adored

You could never pay me enough
Still I kinda understood
Underneath the sex and spectacle
Was something raw and really good
Loneliness in high definition
Wanting someone to pick you first
And maybe that’s what stayed with me
Long after all the shock wore off