[Verse 1] (low, close, controlled) They taught me fear has manners: it doesn't always raise its voice. Sometimes it sits across the table and makes you question every choice. I learned to read the smallest change, the silence before the turn, the way a room can stay completely still while something underneath it burns. [Verse 2] I don't wear armor. I wear judgment. And a small voice — mine — learning how to sound bigger while my hands still shake. I learned which doors to close without a sound, which words could start a fire, which ones could bring it down. I still hear them in the quiet, the ones nobody came for. I called it peace when nothing happened that night. But peace shouldn't feel like getting something right. [Chorus] Truth comes late, but it still bites. Cuts through the calm, cuts through the lies. I may shake, but I won't hide. You don't get to tell me what lives inside. Truth comes late— still bites. Still bites. And this time I bite back. [Verse 3] (colder, observational) You never needed shouting. You had quieter ways. A look held half a second, a question dressed as blame. An apology so perfect I almost felt ashamed for remembering exactly what you did before it came. You could turn the whole room without moving from your chair. Make me doubt what happened while you were standing there. [Pre-Chorus] (tension rising) And then you come close like nothing ever happened. Soft voice. Open hands. Every sentence polished clean. Every kindness comes with terms, every answer is a trade. And I, who learned the cost of taking you at your word, measure every syllable and wait for what you really mean. [Chorus] (stronger harmony) Truth comes late, but it still bites. Cuts through the calm, cuts through the lies. I may shake, but I won't hide. You don't get to tell me what lives inside. Truth comes late— still bites. Still bites. And this time I bite back. [Bridge] (darker) There's a version of me you still think you know. The one who said sorry just to make it stop. The one who kept shrinking so you could stay tall, who called every bruise nothing at all. But she's getting harder to find in my face. There's less and less room for you in her place. [Break] (nearly spoken) Don't call me fragile. I'm the glass you've been watching through, glass that knows where it breaks. I'm a thread pulling its own wound closed with stubborn, crooked strength. The clean rage of never asking permission again. The hardheaded faith that truth, even late— [Final Chorus] (biggest, sustained, no belting) still bites. Truth comes late, but it still bites. Cuts through the calm, cuts through the lies. I still shake, but I don't hide. You don't get to tell me what lives inside. Truth comes late— still bites. Still bites. And this time— I bite back. [Outro] (stripping away to one note) You can call it love. You can call it anything. Truth comes late... but it still— bites.
