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
