¡DOS!
Baby Eyes
Song Meaning
The message for this song in the ¡Dos! deluxe lyric book is: "We all grow up on the wrong side of the womb. Free guns on the house!"
Fan interpretation: "The narrator knows that he's dangerous and out of control. He meets a girl who, based on the title of the song, is innocent (like a baby). He addresses her, and wants to 'warn' her, so to speak, that he was 'born to kill.' He isn't directing this craziness toward her, though; he really likes her ('I say whoa I'm out of control / Well baby when I see your pretty face'). He goes so far as to say 'God help her,' in essence. He wants her to be kept safe from the more mischievous side of his personality."
Fan interpretation: "The narrator knows that he's dangerous and out of control. He meets a girl who, based on the title of the song, is innocent (like a baby). He addresses her, and wants to 'warn' her, so to speak, that he was 'born to kill.' He isn't directing this craziness toward her, though; he really likes her ('I say whoa I'm out of control / Well baby when I see your pretty face'). He goes so far as to say 'God help her,' in essence. He wants her to be kept safe from the more mischievous side of his personality."
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Lyrics
Go!
Year of the rat, last of the litter
Somebody shot the babysitter
They say my middle name is "Danger"
The kind you keep away from strangers
I say whoa, I'm out of control
Well baby, when I see your pretty face
I say whoa, God rest your fucking soul
'Cause baby, baby, I was born to kill
I pulled the trigger for the shooting stars
I am the motor in your crashing car
I am the cherub in the Arab spring
I am the bullet in your magazine
I say whoa, I'm out of control
Well baby, when I see your pretty face
I say whoa, God rest your fucking soul
'Cause baby, baby eyes
Well baby, baby eyes
Well baby, baby, I was born to kill
Year of the rat, last of the litter
Somebody shot the babysitter
They say my middle name is "Danger"
The kind you keep away from strangers
I say whoa, I'm out of control
Well baby, when I see your pretty face
I say whoa, God rest your fucking soul
'Cause baby, baby, I was born to kill
I pulled the trigger for the shooting stars
I am the motor in your crashing car
I am the cherub in the Arab spring
I am the bullet in your magazine
I say whoa, I'm out of control
Well baby, when I see your pretty face
I say whoa, God rest your fucking soul
'Cause baby, baby eyes
Well baby, baby eyes
Well baby, baby, I was born to kill
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