Heroines and Heroin
I bet your son's got more questions than most
Concoctions at breakfast, then brothels and toast
I bet your son's got more dilemmas than most
Low self-esteem, and not much to boast
I bet he doesn't know the scale or the size
I bet he ain't that clued-up
I bet he ain't that wise
I bet your son's got more questions than most
Concoctions at breakfast, then brothels and toast
I bet your son's got more dilemmas than most
Low self-esteem, and not much to boast
Turn him in and inject him now
Don't ask him why or when or how
Turn him in and inject him now
Don't ask him why or where or how
He's got all these questions rattling around his brain
Torturing him all day, like a hurricane
I bet your son's got more dilemmas than most
Low self-esteem, and not much to boast
Why, why, why, why, why
Do you treat me like that?
Do you treat me like-
He's got all these questions rattling around in his brain
They're torturing him all day, like a hurricane
They drive through his brain, like a-, like a train
You're gonna have to explain all of the pain
He's gonna ask why, he's getting wise to your guys
He's getting wise
I bet your son's got more questions than most
Concoctions at breakfast, then brothels and toast
I bet your son doesn't know the scale or the size
But he's getting wise to your guys
He's asking all the why's, the why's, the why's
He's getting wise to your guys
He's getting wise to your guys
Wow
Concoctions at breakfast, then brothels and toast
I bet your son's got more dilemmas than most
Low self-esteem, and not much to boast
I bet he doesn't know the scale or the size
I bet he ain't that clued-up
I bet he ain't that wise
I bet your son's got more questions than most
Concoctions at breakfast, then brothels and toast
I bet your son's got more dilemmas than most
Low self-esteem, and not much to boast
Turn him in and inject him now
Don't ask him why or when or how
Turn him in and inject him now
Don't ask him why or where or how
He's got all these questions rattling around his brain
Torturing him all day, like a hurricane
I bet your son's got more dilemmas than most
Low self-esteem, and not much to boast
Why, why, why, why, why
Do you treat me like that?
Do you treat me like-
He's got all these questions rattling around in his brain
They're torturing him all day, like a hurricane
They drive through his brain, like a-, like a train
You're gonna have to explain all of the pain
He's gonna ask why, he's getting wise to your guys
He's getting wise
I bet your son's got more questions than most
Concoctions at breakfast, then brothels and toast
I bet your son doesn't know the scale or the size
But he's getting wise to your guys
He's asking all the why's, the why's, the why's
He's getting wise to your guys
He's getting wise to your guys
Wow
Credits
Writer(s): Caitlin Petrie, Lewis Akers
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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