He kept a flask in the side table drawer and a belt on the hook beside the door
Preached about sin with bourbon breath, dragged me through his brand of penance and death
Ma left the house when I was small with nothing but her shoes and her resolve
Left me to wrestle the devil in a cheap church suit and a grudge to solve
He called me a curse he had to beat clean, told the county I was always mean
But the bones grew steel where the bruises settled in and spread
I learned to bury the hurt and never reach for what he said
I stacked my exits like I stacked my scars — counted windows, counted bars
Daddy’s poison runs deep, but I never let it win
I wear these wounds like warpaint, not shame laid on my skin
I’m the storm that he built when he tried to split a child at the seam
Now I walk like vengeance wrapped in a cold, unholy dream
He lit the fuse, I became the blast — traded panic for plans when the night hit fast
His pious alibis are ashes I no longer follow or breathe
He’s rotting in his righteousness while I own the smoke that he bequeathed
I started collecting exits like some people collect certainty
I counted every window, every gap between his brutality
I ain’t forgiving and I ain’t forgetting — I branded these bones with every threat he kept setting
I’m done with the apology tour, I’m done with the blood on his floor
He turned his poison into my fuel, and I turned his fuel into war