Adam Pascal, John Hickok
앨범 : Aida

Don't come on so cocksure boy,
you can't escape your genes
No point in feeling pure boy,
your background intervenes
Listen good and listen straight,
you're not the master of your fate
To this you must be reconciled,
you'll always be your father's child
At times acclaimed, at times reviled
You'll wind up doing just what I've done
Like father, like son
Don't assume your vices get
handed down the line
That a parent's blood suffices to
condemn the child's design
I've done wrong, I can't deny,
but at least I know that I
Shouldn't blame that on my stock,
this may come as quite a shock
I'm no chip off any block,
I wouldn't wish those words on anyone
Like father, like son
Son you're nervous, take my hand
All is settled,all is planned
You've got the world at your command
I don't think you understand
I appreciate too well
The squalor at which you excel
it isn't very hard to tell
Evil's a distinctive smell
He's lost all sense of reason, and why?
Some foreign slut
That is the road called treason,
Some doors are slamming shut
Just like me he's found that
flesh can excite but will enmesh
Once we rid him of this blight.
Once this harlot's out of sight.
Then I think he'll see the light.
He won't walk back to daddy he will run.
Like father, like son...