Poor Dave, we called him the DoctornCos he always had boxes of mouthwash and medicinenHis father, he was a fascistnAnd his mother sat silentnHis youth was not pretty, to say the leastnWe put an ad out in a magazinenHe was one of the three kids that callednAnd we turned him down right awaynCos his parents were freakign outnSo he went to Richmond insteadnWhere he met my friend Greg WellsnGreg Wells was our roadie from beforenHe had gone on many of our toursnIt was chaos or luck or fate or somethingnThat led Dave to his doornGreg called me up and told me about DavenIt seemed like one of those thingsnSo we decided to give him a shotnYou cannot escape your fate...nnWe took him on tour and the van broke downnHe called home for the first timenWe were Holbrook, ArizonanAnd the hot sun was melting our mindsnHis father told him to call his ex-girlfriendnHis only ex-girlfriend, the love of his lifenWhen he was with her he was not lonelynHe was cool, and he was doing alrightnHe had a cool car, and the kids payed him respectnShe broke his heart, he lost the carnAnd he lost all of itnnSo he called her from that payphonenWith the cold air conditioningnHe called her from that payphonenListening listening listening listeningnShe said that she missed himnAnd that she wanted him backnHis heart swelled and nearly explodednAnd pushed all of his blood out through the cracksnHe hopped on a bus for 52 hoursnThinking of her the wholenWhen he got back to Rockford all tired and excited he found out it was a liennAnd his Dad was behind it, his Dad was behind itnI think its the worst lie ever toldnHis Dad was behind it, his Dad was behind itnI hope that he burns in HellnMay all liars burn in HellnFor the lies that they have toldnMay all liars burn in HellnUntil they're as black as their own souls