Lletres: Prize Fighter Inferno (The). My Brother's Blood Machine. Accidents.

Oh, come now father dear and turn this blood to choice.
You know, I think these young are spent & have seen their day.
My back bares the scars of work while my sweat has cut the cost.
If my word to God isn't bond, then I'll be damned to say,
This can't be so bad,
Only I sure did love the way she danced,
Oh these dirty games I play,
Long-Arm, you liar!
Go run home to Mama!
A good boy never gets to dance,
These good boys never get a chance