Mob Dad lyrics

Even devils need love
They desire like anyone
Pay for skin on skin fun
Just their money's drenched in blood
They speak in code
They eat their own
They bleed for gold
They need to rest their heads
On mother’s breasts
And feel their dread
Fade away
Even angels need drugs
They get high like anyone
Little skin incisions
Just their money's from above
They're razor sharp
They don’t get caught
They drown their thoughts
They want to rest their heads
On mother's breasts
And feel their dread
Fade away

That's what you are
Heartless and ready for war
Apathy's whore
Slave to your passions and lords
You serve them well
There is no God
No one who cares when you're gone
No one at all
Nothing, but blackness beyond
Infinite dark
But fentanyl and fine dining
Await as your payment
For cutting your heart
Out of your chest

That's what you are
Heartless and ready for war
Apathy's whore
Slave to your passions and lords
You serve them well
There is no God
No one who cares when you're gone
No one at all
Nothing, but blackness beyond
Infinite dark

But fentanyl and fine dining
Await as your payment
For cutting your heart
Out of your chest

That’s what you are
Heartless and ready for war
Apathy’s whore
Slave to your passions and lords
You serve them well
There is no God
There is no God and no God and no God
I'll kill you in this world, see you in the next
Maybe we’ll be best friends or maybe you'll kill me instead
I'll kill you in this world, see you in the next
Maybe we'll be best friends or maybe you’ll kill me instead

Bullet holes open your skin
Leaking out your emotions
With all things considered, it's not such a bad death
Bullet holes open your skin
Leaking out your emotions
With all things considered, it's not such a bad death

Someone left their headlights on
Your late mother's voice whispers "Won't you come home, son?"
You levitate
Floating to the heavens
And the city down below goes on forever and forever

Never met a b*tch I couldn't break
f*ck or be f*cked and there was money to be made
Never met a man I couldn't shake
f*ck credit cards, just bring a gun up to his face
We were the grim reaper's sons
From Revere to Winthrop
Made a pact with the pitch black oblivion
Bodies filling the beach
When our business was weak
Turning priests into fent fiend missionaries
I'm sorry bout Big Mike
But he was losing his touch
Couldn't keep his mouth shut
So we sewed that sh*t up
I'm sorry bout your chick
I heard she took her own life
Couldn't stomach all the hype
From the South Boston vice

I know your daddy was a f*cking rat
When he dies, throw his body in the f*cking trash
I know your daddy was a f*cking rat
When he dies, throw his body in the f*cking trash

One more night with her
Alone in human form
I promise I wouldn't do
Anything to kill the mood
One more night with her
Alone in human form
I promise I wouldn't do
Anything to kill the mood