Woorden: Des Ark. Covert Conspiracy Of Spanish Speaking Cats.

If you're looking for a reason to freeze to death
Many can't feel that it's their father's breath
If you're scared as shit to talk about your family traits
Just know that I believe, and I always will believe
In you

If you lay another hand on your son, sir
I swear to god, I'm gonna waste you
You can holler, you can cry, sober up, apologize
But still, what good are you?

Father cut off all of the ties that bind
A father to his son
If he's just some dead weight, deadbeat drunk

I can show you all the things he's gonna steal and sell
And still you hold him to your ear just like a paper shell
Oh, I can take you on a tour of my old neighborhood
Here it is, the bathtub where you'll find the love of your life
Choking up his own blood
Well, a junkie's got a fire that is burning hotter than the brightest star
And if he don't put it out himself
It's the needles, it's the spoons, it's the little white balloons
I wish I didn't cut off all of the ties that bound us
The blood, the guts, even little paper cuts
These are the ones we love