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Lyrics » Letter : B » Artist : Bad Religion » Pride and the Pallor Lyrics

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Pride and the Pallor by Bad Religionالقصائد الغناءيه -текстове на песни -texty -paroles -στίχοι -गीतletras -songteksten -тексты песен -versuri -tekst utworu -testi -the text of the song - - نص الاغنيةтекста на песента -tekst pjesme -text písně -teksten til sangen -teksti, laulu -le texte de la chanson -το κείμενο του τραγουδιού -पाठ के गीतEl texto de la canción -de tekst van het lied -der Text des Liedes -teksten til sangen -o texto da canção -Текст песни -textul de la piesa -Texten till låten -il testo della canzone

Pride and the Pallor by Bad Religion

     

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Papa had a wife and kids he kept them on a leash
And he bid them all to do his every deed
When he was a kid he was treated just the same
So he hid his feelings from his family
Lost as an island out at sea,
Resistant to the gentle waves of empathy

Papa and his family always on parade
Tearing through the turnstiles, a weekenders charade
But time will tell, as their world crumbles to hell

What they created was a family story no one will tell
It's a photo album too terrible
But the pride and the pallor
Continue to swell as the matron silently prays

Junior resented the tradition they upheld
And it ate him up inside most every day
Silence was golden and they kept him to his word
So bewildered when he finally ran away
Oh, obligations never cease
Oblivious of the ways to give his soul some peace

Yeah, papa and his family always on parade
Passing through the turnstiles, a weekenders charade
But time will tell, as their world crumbles to hell

What they created was a family story no one will tell
It's a photo album too terrible
But the pride and the pallor continue
To swell as the matron silently prays

"Get me out of here, someone's got to save the day."
The children are reminded to do it for the daddy's sake
And happiness is ever so far, far away.

Yeah, lost as an island out at sea,
Resistant to the gentle waves of empathy
Papa and his family always on parade
Tearing through the turnstiles, a weekenders charade
It's just a sick calamity that fatherhood made,
But time will tell, as their world crumbles to hell

What they created was a family story no one will tell
It's a photo album too terrible
But the pride and the pallor
Continue to swell as the matron silently prays

Writer : GRAFFIN, GREG / GUREWITZ, BRETT
Copyright : Lyrics © Warner/Chappell Music, Inc.

These lyrics are not available for printing.

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