His spit is worth more than her work
Pass the purse to the pugilist
He`s a prizefighter
He brought rings and he owns kin
And now he`s swingin`
And now he`s the champion
Hey revolver, don`t mothers make good fathers?
Revolver
A potless domain
Hiders festerning hopes she`s certain there`s more
pictures of fields without fences
Her body numbs as he approaches the door
Hey revolver, don`t mothers make good fathers?
Revolver
