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Welcome my son, it's been so very long |
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I doubt that you're here to surrender |
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The disappointing days I suffered at your age |
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Are more than I'd care to remember |
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Before you throw the towel and turn your engines out |
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Don't expect to spit all that you tasted from your mouth |
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After all you've seen, the most you'll hope to be |
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Is pretending to be a pretender |
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The years that I've been through, I've met a gentle few |
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Who say that they love and they mean it |
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Others that I met, they're decent folks I guess |
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But all that they love is achievement |
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The swagger and the dress, the trappings of success |
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The butter and the milk is what it takes to get ahead |
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Any given night, you'll catch them dead to rights |
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Paintin' their name on the ceilin' |
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Remember in the end, that many of your friends |
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Would rather be dead than uncertain |
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They want a simple yes, but even better yet |
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A promise that the next life is perfect |
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I promise that it's not, then what have they got |
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Only fifty years they never gave a moments thought |
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Anyone they find that tells them otherwise |
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They'll follow him backwards and shirtless |
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Welcome my son, it's been so very long |
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I doubt that you're here to surrender |
