Father's Milk 歌词

Patron saint of b-movies Knuckles inked up at just 15 To me, they were the hands of God Taking notes and Blessing all they touch Born of grime and cheap white trash Talkin’ shit and ditchin’ class You grew up and made your way out Know that I still want to make you proud I hope your end was as merciful as you were to me I hope the soil swathed you like the arms of a loving mother I hope you didn't see me kicking snow at your cemetery Born of a father like a mayfly To make an artist out of me Now I'm older and I've found myself Making life in the deep, deep south But I can still smell your ultralight smoke You used to blow out of that candid mouth I hope your end was as merciful as you were to me I hope the soil swathed you like the arms of a loving mother I hope you didn't see me kicking snow at your cemetery Born of a father like a mayfly To make an artist out of me 'Cause even in death you’re teaching me Like a convict born anew And any love I’ll come to know Will be pitiful compared to you