His spit is worth more then her work
  Pass the purse to the puglist
  He's a prizefighter
  He brought rings and he owns kin
  And now he's swinging
  And now he's the champion
  Hey revolver, don't mothers make
  Good fathers?
  Revolver
  A spotless domain
  Hides festering hopes she's certain there's more
  Pictures of the fields without fences
  Her body numbs as he approaches the door
  Hey revoler don't mothers make
  good fathers?
  Revolver