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Prodigal Son

Bruce Springsteen
Language: English


Bruce Springsteen


In a place where outlaws are banned from the rane
On a day mountains has fallen to foes
In a land where boys are forbidden to grow
And metal is the only master
Were the higway ends and the desert breaks
and buildings are bent from great earthquackes
And statesmen crawl on their bellies like snakes
And feed of the public hunger
In a land were sky-scrapers scratch the sky
And delinquent daughters to their mothers still lie
Papa stands on the corner he wants to beat the drum
Welcome Home My Prodigal Son
When Rivers run raising through city streets
And great eagels have fallen from their lofty peaks
And policemen moonlight aside show freaks
for the final crime is commited
When Presidents ride in Ford Mustangs
And the Black man releases his Caddilac fangs
And you checked out in bed as the landbird bangs A young girl next door for the rent
Where telegraph wires are attached you and mine
And delinquent daughters to their mothers still lie
Papa stands on the corner waitin to beat the drum
Welcome Home My Prodigal Son
When the telephone rings and falls of the hook
And your legs have been stolen by some defense department crook
And you startin' to think about writing a book
But now you won't pledge allegiance to anything
And the maid comes in with coffee and cake
In a low-cut dress she wore just for your sake
You explain your not dead and she takes it as a compliment
and sticks out her tounge and asks for requests
In a land were skyscrapers scratch the sky
and delinquent daughters to their mothers still lie
Papa stands on the corner waitin' to beat the drum
Welcome Home My Prodigal Son
And the mercury men with hydraulic joints
They bribe with a smile and hold you up in the alley at pen point
And they ask you to bend over that they may anoint
You with holy water of your profession
When the line between love and hate gets so thin
And your body takes over when your mind gives in
And your lady lover demands that you pin her to the floor
But its too late your reflexes are shot
And the man on the corner with the nervous twitch
Whispers hey how'd ya like to buy a nice bitch
She's a 38 and I got her loaded in all six
He keeps talking and you just keep walking
And you reach for the sky and get stuck on a steeple
You reach out for love but you get lost in the people
You run through the canyon
Screaming like an eagle and you fall face first in the mud
In a land where skyscrapers scratch the sky
and delinquent daughters have their own children who lie
Papa stands on the corner waiting the parade
He wants to beat the drum
Welcome Home
Welcome Home My Prodigal Son
Welcome Home My Prodigal Son



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