8. Lecture (Don't Tell Your Mom)
Trigger warning:
INTRO
When Daddy cleared his throat, I braced.
A lecture coming — the familiar drone.
He'd say, "Don't tell your mom."
That's where the split started to show.
VERSE 1
Daddy said: "That's enough now, dry it up.
You think that's hard?
You don't even know what pain is."
Looped in a lecture I never could lose —
my silence snapped into a noose.
He said, "I tell you these things so you don't repeat my mistakes.
Perception is the key to life."
He never asked what I perceived.
His philosophy was a one‑way mirror.
He saw himself. I learned to just watch from here.
The stick was for the dogs.
But his words carved canyons — left me with scars.
PRE-CHORUS
Once I had to go.
He said, "I see how it is. Your friends matter more."
The leash got longer, but guilt tore me apart.
CHORUS
Daddy lectured for hours about honesty —
then whispered, "Don't tell your mom, she can't handle it."
She was always the last to find out anything.
(Don't tell your mom.)
Family kept her in the dark, then blamed her for reacting.
I stood in the middle — the messenger they both shot.
Don't tell your mom.
(Lecture. Lecture.)
VERSE 2
He talked for hours — the trauma, the past, sex.
His voice was a sermon. I was the nodding girl.
He complained about Momma's coldness, her prudishness.
Daddy said: "No one can take care of you like you can take care of yourself."
His disappointment in her bed was never mine to hold.
But I did. I carried him.
When I left home, I said I wanted to be a model.
He told me, "You're not pretty enough."
So I picked up a camera. Got behind the lens.
Let the other women be pretty. I stayed sharp, I stayed gritty.
When I told him about the first rape, he asked:
"Why'd you get in the truck? What were you wearing?"
I stopped calling home after that.
PRE-CHORUS
Once I had to go.
He said, "I see how it is. Your friends matter more."
The leash got longer, but guilt tore me apart.
CHORUS
Daddy lectured for hours about honesty —
then whispered, "Don't tell your mom, she can't handle it."
She was always the last to find out anything.
(Don't tell your mom.)
Family kept her in the dark, then blamed her for reacting.
I stood in the middle — the messenger they both shot.
Don't tell your mom.
(Lecture. Lecture.)
BRIDGE
When I told him I was hurting, he reached for his guitar.
Music was his escape. I was his audience —
just the daughter who listened.
He picked me to hold his secrets.
I carried his ghosts.
TINY CHORUS
"Don't tell your mom, she can't handle it."
She was always the last to find out anything.
(Don't tell your mom.)
OUTRO
I keep my own counsel now.
No more lectures. I don't call home.
"Integrity is what you do when no one is watching."
He said that a lot.
