His spit is worth more than her work
Pass the purse to the pugilists
He's a prizefighter
He bought rings and he owns kin
And now he's swingin
And now he's the champion
Hey revolver, dont mothers make good fathers?
Revolver
A spotless domain
Hides festering hopes
Shes certain there's more
Rictures of fields without fences
Her body numbs as he approaches the door
Hey revolver, dont mothers make good fathers?
Revolver
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