When dreams control their dreamers
Felonies turn into misdemeanors
Because no one wants to believe they're all that bad.
That's when daddy tells his daughter
Exactly what it means to be her father
And how every night should be the prom for your sicko dad.
And you're om won't tell because this living hell ain't all that bad.
In fact, the car she's driving is the best she's ever had.
Your daddy's a believer.
The truth is on the lips of the deceiver
If the liars lips are sugar sweet and apple red
He says "there's no need to make this messy.
Mean God made sex so God is probably sexy.
And a girl's a girl and a bed is just a bed."
And your mom won't tell
She was raised in hell, and in hell it's said
That if you change the sheets, you don't ever change the bed.
Dreams can be tragic
When they make the lies magically seem true.
Like thou shalt not covet
But baby, you'll love it when daddy do.
And daddy do want to dance the night away with you
And daddy do want to chase the light away from you. From you
The Devil wears a sweater,
Raon slacks, a quart of English Leather
And he likes to talk about the day when you was had.
And mom just listens from the kitchen, shakes her head
And mumbles to herself how it's so sad.
But it's just as well if you get used to hell
It won't be so bad.
When you finally recognize the piece that's missing
Locked away in your own tiny kitchen
Just talking to yourself about your sicko dad.