1974, you got what you came for.
A suicide and a bottle of gin and you're in.
And you're in. got you in. and you're in.
1974, and they've been telling me
it's so much more, but this just looks like skin on skin from here.
So what is it I'm supposed to find so sacred in this?
'Cause I'm not seeing anything too sacred in this.
no nothing sacred here.
"Father?" What are you? and what am I?
Son of the glint in your eye.
bastard son of all your impure thoughts.
She never forgot the value of trust.
when all our restraint turns to dust.
But there's this old familiar glint in my eyes.
old faithful tells me otherwise.
1974... I am what you came for.