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
Do 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 just how 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 read 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
That dream that hounds 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
Don´t look at me, no I ain´t one, no prodigal son