Prodigal Son - Bad Religion

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 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 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