Mama gripped onto the milkman's hand,
And then she finally gave birth;
Years go by, still I don't know,
Who shall inherit this earth;
And no one will know my name until it's on a stone...
This could be your lucky day...in hell,
Never know who it might be at your doorbell,
This could be your lucky day...in hell...
Waking up with an ugly face,
Winston Churchill in drag;
Looking for new maternal embrace,
Another tired old gag;
Am I just a walking bag of chewed up dust and bones...
This could be your lucky day...in hell,
Never know who it might be at your doorbell,
This could be your lucky day...in hell...in hell...
Father Theresa, you can't make me into you,
I never wanna be like you,
Why can't you see, it's me,
You know it's time to let me go...
This could be your lucky day...in hell,
Never know who it might be at your doorbell,
This could be your lucky day...in hell... in hell...
compositores: MARK O. EVERETT, MARK GOLDENBERG
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