When dreams control their dreamers Felonies turn into misdemeanors Because no one wants to believe they're all that bad. That's when daddy tells his daughter Exactly what it means to be her father And how every night should be the prom for your sicko dad. And you're om won't tell because this living hell ain't all that bad. In fact, the car she's driving is the best she's ever had.
Your daddy's a believer. The truth is on the lips of the deceiver If the liars lips are sugar sweet and apple red He says "there's no need to make this messy. Mean God made sex so God is probably sexy. And a girl's a girl and a bed is just a bed."
And your mom won't tell She was raised in hell, and in hell it's said That if you change the sheets, you don't ever change the bed.
Dreams can be tragic When they make the lies magically seem true. Like thou shalt not covet But baby, you'll love it when daddy do. And daddy do want to dance the night away with you And daddy do want to chase the light away from you. From you
The Devil wears a sweater, Raon slacks, a quart of English Leather And he likes to talk about the day when you was had. And mom just listens from the kitchen, shakes her head And mumbles to herself how it's so sad. But it's just as well if you get used to hell It won't be so bad. When you finally recognize the piece that's missing Locked away in your own tiny kitchen Just talking to yourself about your sicko dad.Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
