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 can't have you hearing that devil's voice I told him to shut up and he punched my face Threw my record in the furnace place 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 ♪ 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 can't have you hearing that devil's voice Sorry son, but you have no choice ♪ Ahh! I said you have no choice I said you have no choice Or do you have a choice?