LYRICS
Use A− / A+ to adjust text sizeProdigal Son
And the Black man releases his Caddilac fangsAnd your chech died in bed as the landlord thanks the young girl next doorfor the rentWhere telegraph wires are atached to your mindDelinquent daughters to their mothers still liePapa stands on the corner ???waitin to beat the drum???Welcome Home My Prodigal SonWhen the telephone rings and falls of the hookAnd your legs have been stolen by some defense department crookAnd you startin' to think about writing a bookBut now you won't pledge allingence to anythingAnd the maid comes in with coffee and cakeIn a low-cut dress she wore just for your sakeYou explain your not dead and she takes it as a complimentand sticks out her tounge and asks for requestsIn a land were skyscrapers scrapes the skyand delinquent daughters to their mothers still liePapa stands on the corner ???waitin' to beat the drum???Welcome Home My Prodigal Son
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