The Masochist’s Daughter

I wish I knew what was going through your head

When you color code your make-up

And you sugar-coat your lies

You can compromise your morals

But don't you waste my fucking time

I hope you feel sick

When you think of coming clean

Cause your hands are so cold

But only when they're touching me

I'm sure he flatters you with flowers

I know he tries to treat you well

I know he fills you up with expensive foods and liquors

And tells you that your family

Is not as important as himself

I hope you feel sick

When you think of coming clean

Cause your hands are so cold

But only when they're touching me

I got a right hook with his name on it

You wrote the handbook on how to be dishonest

I don't know you anymore

I don't know

I don't know

I don't know

That's just the risk of coming home