Son

Oh can't you feel the nostalgia son I wonder about ya

Modernistocrat Horatio Alger

Clever never hesitating in the baiting ever waiting

For the canticle of manacles abating

Did you ever forget - you had a regret - and what you only guessed at

Might still be waiting?

When the prodigal son with a caroming shadow of hate comes to land at home

Well he's a mourning star with a champagne heart at his curtain call

And father never understood the way the work gets done

Don't look at me, no I ain't one, no prodigal son

Don't look at me, no I ain't one, no prodigal son

When everybody about - is ready to bout you - about controversial values

Don't you think you better readdress the level of the cowardice rising to drown you?

Did you ever connect - or come to reject - or even inspect

The dreams that hound you?

When the prodigal son with a caroming shadow of hate comes to land at home

Well he's a mourning star with a champagne heart at his curtain call

And father never understood the way the work gets done

Don't look at me, no I ain't one, no prodigal son

Don't look at me, no I ain't one, no prodigal son

When you least expect it he's going to run

Like the blood red path of the western sun, oh yeah

The prodigal son is waiting, waiting for his moment to come

Well hell no, don't look at me

Can't you see, I ain't one, no prodigal son

It ain't me, no I ain't one, no prodigal son