At The Drive-In. El Gran Orgo. Picket Fence Cartel. Zeneszám

We all become,
What we most dislike,
In this picket fence cartel.

Tell?
There's nothing left to tell.
What have we become,
Cycle all over again.
I filled the shoes 'til I was ten.
In front of the classroom,
in front of my peers.
That day will be remembered,
It was etched in tears.
Daddy taught well at the end of his belt.
Daddy taught well at the end of his belt.

We all become what we most,
Dislike!

We all become what we most,
Dislike!

Tell?
Tell?
There's nothing left to tell.
What will I become,
When it's my turn again.
Will it hurt me more than it hurts them?
Scotch tape the volume of my mouth,
Withold the expression that I wasn't allowed.
Daddy taught well at the end of his belt.
Daddy taught well at the end of his belt.

We all become what we most,
Dislike!

We all become what we most,
Dislike!

We all become what we most,
Dislike!

We all become what we most,
Dislike!

Daddy taught well at the end of his belt.
I said Daddy taught,
Well.

Nothing left to tell.

Come on.
Come on.
Come on.

Come on.

Daddy taught well at the end of his belt.
Daddy taught well at the end of his belt.

Come on.

Tell?
Tell?
There's nothing left to tell.

We all become what we most,
Dislike!

We all become what we most,
Dislike!

We all become what we most,
Dislike!

We all become what we most,
Dislike!