(B. Walkenhorst) Down through our histories we have been told That women hold mysteries men cannot know But boys learn true secrecy, how to hide lies In cracks in their souls and behind shaded eyes That filter all light through the sins of their fathers Shining on down on good sons and daughters We were true believers that this song of gold Was a high holy fever that purified the soul But peace turned to piss off, equality a laugh As girls danced a-go-go to our golden calf We borrowed the tune from the hymns of our fathers We are not rebels, just good sons and daughters The revolution came, the revolution went Not meant for all, just that fifty percent That drew the dots from pin-ups from porno to rape And bought into Hollywood and Hefner's sly hate Millions of Marilyns who died for their lovers Seducing a culture of good sons and daughters Reading through the paper and I happened to see A police-artist's sketch that looked a whole lot like me So I started dodging questions, lying on top of lies And I bought what I thought was a good alibi I never knew your mother, your sister or daughter I ain't no killer I'm a good son
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Copy to Clipboard: (B. Walkenhorst) Down through our histories we have been told That women hold mysteries men cannot know But boys learn true secrecy, how to hide lies In cracks in their souls and behind shaded eyes That filter all light through the sins of their fathers Shining on down on good sons and daughters We were true believers that this song of gold Was a high holy fever that purified the soul But peace turned to piss off, equality a laugh As girls danced a-go-go to our golden calf We borrowed the tune from the hymns of our fathers We are not rebels, just good sons and daughters The revolution came, the revolution went Not meant for all, just that fifty percent That drew the dots from pin-ups from porno to rape And bought into Hollywood and Hefner's sly hate Millions of Marilyns who died for their lovers Seducing a culture of good sons and daughters Reading through the paper and I happened to see A police-artist's sketch that looked a whole lot like me So I started dodging questions, lying on top of lies And I bought what I thought was a good alibi I never knew your mother, your sister or daughter I ain't no killer I'm a good son
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