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