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