No Son of Mine

We've drained full confession booths

Polluted drinking wells with our repentances

And then stood grinning with our arm

Around our shoulders of a rotting child

Hold that pose, provisional arrogant little pigs

Who devour their siblings

Shoot that dog if we can't afford to feed

Shoot that dog if we can't afford to feed

Famine fathered a moth

Famine fathered a moth that begot our fathers

Keep your voices down, I'm sneaking out

Hey, what's the big idea?

Keep your fucking hands off the insight

That rat has got it's mother's eyes

That rat has got it's mother's eyes

Breeding and nausea

They are pouring themselves into the sea

Stop thief, stop thief, stop thief, stop thief

Stop thief, stop thief, stop thief, stop thief

Leave your drunken accident at the prom

It'll grow to mend your broken heart

Don't sign the dotted line

Every house is a little bit of Hollywood

Don't sign the dotted line

Every house is a little bit of Hollywood

The world is too incredible

To bring such ugliness into it

The artist is sneaking down the hall

To impregnate the last of its kin

Indiscernible mute in a swarm of derivatives

I deny any part, I deny any part

Deadbeat, godfather

Deadbeat, godfather

Deadbeat, godfather

Deadbeat, godfather

Bite your tongue, who taught you those words?

Blaspheme, when you are under my roof

Don't ever say rock and roll

Don't ever say rock and roll