|
One more man gone |
|
One more man gone |
|
One more man is gone |
|
The good son walks into the field |
|
He is a tiller, he has a tiller's hands |
|
But down in his heart now |
|
He lays down his queer plans |
|
Against his brother and against his family |
|
Yet he worships his brother |
|
And he worships his mother |
|
But it's his father, he says, is an unfair man |
|
The good son |
|
The good son |
|
The good son |
|
The good son has sat and often wept |
|
Beneath a malign star by which he's kept |
|
And the night-time in which he's wrapped |
|
Speaks of good and speaks of evil |
|
And he calls to his mother |
|
And he calls to his father |
|
But they are deaf in the shadows |
|
Of his brother's truancy |
|
The good son |
|
The good son |
|
The good son |
|
The good son |
|
And he curses his mother |
|
And he curses his father |
|
And he curses his virtue like an unclean thing |
|
The good son |
|
The good son |
|
The good son |
|
One more man gone |
|
One more man gone |
|
One more man |
|
One more man gone |
|
One more man gone |
|
One more man |
|
One more man gone |
|
One more man gone |
|
One more man |
|
(repeat) |
