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?

Revolver