Son of a Gun Lyrics

You are a dollar made to spend on war, an unwritten police report reappearing sporadically, only seldomly not seen as bullet holes in a car side door. Calling all customers of consumer culture. 3-D printers can make orange AK-47 parts. Show the world to their seats next to the Dear God, Our Father Whom Art In Heaven. Yrs is the face of the hate with which I'm obsessed, blood of my blood, flesh of my flesh; the dismantled connection to a sense of self which I suppress. So sell that shit hood rich. You only sell or get sold to. You only sell or get told to.