Prodigal Son
Caught up in a perfect storm
Of self doubt and addiction
Now the pleasure you once felt
Is a cursed self infliction
Marking time at the scene of the crime
No alibis were given
A scorned lover taking her revenge
On the corpse of the living
White line fever or a glass of jack
Been gone so long is there anyway back
Where's the prodigal son
Lives like he's on the run
But when the monkeys on your back
You're just towing the line
Where's the prodigal son
Lives like he's on the run
Sometimes a life just don't add up
It's all just insane
Hope you make it home again
Every time you try to pull away
It keeps dragging you in
Casting a shadow everywhere
This hand you never win
Too bad you just can't wish it away
It goes way too deep
How much you willing to throw away
And what you want to keep
White line fever or a glass of jack
Been gone so long is there anyway back
Where's the prodigal son
Lives like he's on the run
But when the monkeys on your back
You're just towing the line
Where's the prodigal son
Lives like he's on the run
Sometimes a life just don't add up
It's all just insane
Hope you make it home again
Don't bother asking the question
The answer's always the same
Russian roulette ain't no way to live
The mirror points to the blame
Two steps forward two steps back
A tortured promenade
Somewhere you're hanging that portrait
Just like Dorian Grey
White line fever or a glass of jack
Been gone so long is there anyway back
Where's the prodigal son
Lives like he's on the run
But when the monkeys on your back
You're just towing the line
Where's the prodigal son
Lives like he's on the run
Sometimes a life just don't add up
It's all just insane
Hope you make it home again
Caught up in a perfect storm
Of self doubt and addiction
Now the pleasure you once felt
Is a cursed self infliction
Marking time at the scene of the crime
No alibis were given
A scorned lover taking her revenge
On the corpse of the living
Of self doubt and addiction
Now the pleasure you once felt
Is a cursed self infliction
Marking time at the scene of the crime
No alibis were given
A scorned lover taking her revenge
On the corpse of the living
White line fever or a glass of jack
Been gone so long is there anyway back
Where's the prodigal son
Lives like he's on the run
But when the monkeys on your back
You're just towing the line
Where's the prodigal son
Lives like he's on the run
Sometimes a life just don't add up
It's all just insane
Hope you make it home again
Every time you try to pull away
It keeps dragging you in
Casting a shadow everywhere
This hand you never win
Too bad you just can't wish it away
It goes way too deep
How much you willing to throw away
And what you want to keep
White line fever or a glass of jack
Been gone so long is there anyway back
Where's the prodigal son
Lives like he's on the run
But when the monkeys on your back
You're just towing the line
Where's the prodigal son
Lives like he's on the run
Sometimes a life just don't add up
It's all just insane
Hope you make it home again
Don't bother asking the question
The answer's always the same
Russian roulette ain't no way to live
The mirror points to the blame
Two steps forward two steps back
A tortured promenade
Somewhere you're hanging that portrait
Just like Dorian Grey
White line fever or a glass of jack
Been gone so long is there anyway back
Where's the prodigal son
Lives like he's on the run
But when the monkeys on your back
You're just towing the line
Where's the prodigal son
Lives like he's on the run
Sometimes a life just don't add up
It's all just insane
Hope you make it home again
Caught up in a perfect storm
Of self doubt and addiction
Now the pleasure you once felt
Is a cursed self infliction
Marking time at the scene of the crime
No alibis were given
A scorned lover taking her revenge
On the corpse of the living
Credits
Writer(s): Peter Hull
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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