His spit is worth more than her work
Pass the purse to the pugilist
He's a prizefighter
He brought rings and he owns kin
And now he's swingin'
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 fields without fences
Her body numbs as he aproaches the door

Hey revolver, don't mothers make good fathers?
Revolver