The Father, The Son, And the Homosexual / Single Parent - Dillinger Four

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

And I with that I could make it stop

Like salt thrown over shoulder

A coin tossed in a fountain

Not unlike a knock on wood

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

Like salt thrown over shoulder

A coin tossed in a fountain

Not unlike a knock on wood

Like salt thrown over shoulder

A coin tossed in a fountain

Not unlike a knock on wood

A knock on wood

All my life

Surrounded, unfounded

A teachings thought as threats

I won’t forget

I won’t forget