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Bad Religion New Maps of Hell Prodigal 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 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 |
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