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