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Album: Track 5 on What the Toll Tells
Rate: The Prodigal Son gets avg. rating 1 out of 10 based on 1 ratings. Rate the song now!!!
Well, I've been a disclaimer for twenty-four years Poor mother drowned in a pillow of tears Im 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 dont need nobody, nobody needs me I dont need nobody, nobody needs me (thanks to Novo for these lyrics)
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