| Lyrics |
His spit is worth more than her work
Pass tha 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, don't mothers make
Good fathers ? Revolver
A spotless domain
Hides festering hopes she's certain thre's more
Pictures of fields without fences
Her body numbs as he approaches the door
Hey revolver, don't mothers make
Good fathers ? Revolver
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