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Oh can't you feel the nostalgia son I wonder about ya |
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Modernistocrat Horatio Alger |
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Clever never hesitating in the baiting ever waiting2 |
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For the canticle of manacles abating |
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Do you ever forget - you had a regret - and what you only guessed at |
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Might still be waiting? |
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When the prodigal son with a caroming shadow of hate comes to land at home |
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Well he's a mourning star with a champagne heart at his curtain call |
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And father never understood just how the work gets done |
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Don't look at me, no I ain't one, no prodigal son |
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Don't look at me, no I ain't one, no prodigal son |
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When everybody about - is read to bout you |
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- about controversial values |
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Don't you think you better readdress |
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the level of the cowardice rising to drown you |
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Did you ever connect - or come to reject - or even inspect |
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That dream that hounds you |
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When the prodigal son with a caroming shadow of hate comes to land at home |
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Well he's a mourning star with a champagne heart at his curtain call |
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And father never understood just how the work gets done |
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Don't look at me, no I ain't one, no prodigal son |
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Don't look at me, no I ain't one, no prodigal son |
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When you least expect it he's going to run |
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Like the blood red path of the western sun oh yeah |
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The prodigal son is waiting, waiting for his moment to come |
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Well hell no, don't look at me |
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Can't you see, I ain't one, no prodigal son |
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no I ain't one, no prodigal son |