Wifebeater

Bruises colors

reminding my fist of the spring

screaming to try to convince you

That you couldn't sing

Well I know you don't like it

But I know for sure you won't tell

These two daddy charges

They sure are the hardest to sell

Tell me what did I do?

What makes me so clumsy

When I show my deep love for you

Is it brutal or oral

I'm shooting always the wrong dove

Well I know it doesn't rhyme

Tied to my birthtown stove

Well I hate the things I do

Morning regrets by the one

Who forgets what he's done

Mental attacks by the priest

With a stick church to run

You could call it expressive

But at least I ain't using no gun

I thrive on the sound of a slowly torn

up dress

Tell me what did I do?

What makes me so clumsy

When I show my deep love for you

Is it brutal or oral

I'm shooting always the wrong dove

Well I know it doesn't rhyme

Tied to my birthtown stove

Well I hate the things I do