The Father, The Son, And The Homosexual/Single Parent

Dillinger Four

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    They called it faith
    They called it fair
    They called it resolution
    I call it shit when we were alone
    They simply paid no mind
    You'd suffered such a crime
    Then there you were
    A mother way too soon

    They said you'd made your bed
    Then they filled your head
    With the sound
    The bells of a cathedral
    You say you're still ashamed
    I wish that I could make it stop

    Like salt thrown over shoulder
    A coin tossed in a fountain
    Not unlike a knock on wood

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    You said only in as much
    As you were sensitive to touch
    Did you feel like a human when they spoke
    And so you hid your life
    All bottled up inside
    Just enough to make
    Your angels choke

    You took all you heard
    And tried to make them your own words
    Only deafened by the sound
    The bells of a cathedral
    Now you hate yourself and I wish that I could make it fucking stop

    All my life
    Surrounded, unfounded
    Teachings thought as threats
    I won't forget

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