Mama (from "Rock Sound Presents: The Black Parade" compilation)

Mama, we all go to hell
Mama, we all go to hell
I'm writing this letter and wishing you well
Mama, we all go to hell

Oh, well, now
Mama, we're all gonna die
Mama, we're all gonna die
Stop asking me questions, I'd hate to see you cry
Mama, we're all gonna die

And when we go don't blame us, yeah
We'll let the fires just bathe us, yeah
You made us oh, so famous
We'll never let you go
And when you go, don't return to me, my love

Mama, we're all full of lies
Mama, we're meant for the flies
And right now they're building a coffin your size
Mama, we're all full of lies

Well, mother, what the war did to my legs and to my tongue
You should've raised a baby girl
I should've been a better son
If you could coddle the infection
They can amputate it once
You should've been
I could have been a better son

And when we go don't blame us, yeah
We'll let the fires just bathe us, yeah
You made us oh, so famous
We'll never let you go

She said: "You ain't no son of mine
For what you've done they're gonna find
A place for you
And just you mind your manners when you go
And when you go, don't return to me, my love"
That's right

Mama, we all go to hell
Mama, we all go to hell
It's really quite pleasant
Except for the smell
Mama, we all go to hell

Two Three Four
Mama! Mama! Mama! Oh!
Mama! Mama! Mama! Ma...

And if you would call me a sweetheart
I'd maybe then sing you a song

But there's shit that I've done with this fuck of a gun
You would cry out your eyes all along

We're damned after all
Through fortune and fame we fall
And if you can stay, then I'll show you the way
To return from the ashes you call
We all carry on
When our brothers in arms are gone
So raise your glass high
For tomorrow we die
And return from the ashes you call