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The Prodigal Son
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Two Gallants
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1
Well, I've been a disclaimer for twenty-four years
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Poor mother drowned in a pillow of tears
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Im well known in story, famous in song
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The black sheep, the blemish, the one who went wrong
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The black sheep, the blemish, the one who went wrong
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My crime is discomfort, my mind ill at ease
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They'll grow on my shoulder, my favorite disease
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My siblings, my rivals might tend to my wake
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Grieve me not brothers, I was mother's mistake
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Grieve me not brothers, I was mother's mistake
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And all the grand expectations of an epic of wealth
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Leave me long to crawl back to the womb
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Well, I've tasted your grace, placed it back on the shelf
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Drag your pedigree wives to your tomb
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Drag your pedigree wives to your tomb
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Well, I came from this city, a victim of peace
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But I've grown far too filthy to attend to the feast
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So I take to the hills to live savage and free
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I dont need nobody, nobody needs me
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I dont need nobody, nobody needs me
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