I pride my record collection, it's the only thing I like to do But, my dad insists they're evil things With satanic messages in their grooves He says he knows this for a fact cause the lord told him so And he doesn't want the voice of Satan Raging through his humble home. Those records are the devil's music And no son of mine's gonna listen to them
Sorry son, but you have no choice I just can't have you hearing that devil's voice I told him to shut up and he punched my face He then grabbed a sledgehammer from out back And sabotaged my record rack He crushed all my imports and rarities He didn't even save the picture sleeves! Afterwards I felt so weak With each broken record died a part of me