His spit is worth more then her work Pass the purse to the puglist He's a prizefighter He brought rings and he owns kin And now he's swinging And now he's the champion Hey revolver, don't mothers make Good fathers? Revolver A spotless domain Hides festering hopes she's certain there's more Pictures of the fields without fences Her body numbs as he approaches the door Hey revoler don't mothers make Good fathers? Revolve
