Prodigal Son

And the Black man releases his Caddilac fangs

And your chech died in bed as the landlord thanks the young girl next door

for the rent

Where telegraph wires are atached to your mind

Delinquent daughters to their mothers still lie

Papa stands on the corner ???waitin to beat the drum???

Welcome Home My Prodigal Son

When the telephone rings and falls of the hook

And your legs have been stolen by some defense department crook

And you startin' to think about writing a book

But now you won't pledge allingence to anything

And the maid comes in with coffee and cake

In a low-cut dress she wore just for your sake

You explain your not dead and she takes it as a compliment

and sticks out her tounge and asks for requests

In a land were skyscrapers scrapes the sky

and delinquent daughters to their mothers still lie

Papa stands on the corner ???waitin' to beat the drum???

Welcome Home My Prodigal Son