You were born a poor boy,
But your Mom and Dad loved you;
Everything they did
They were always thinking of you.
You were such a bright boy,
They gave you all they had
Tried to teach you right from wrong
Shielded you from everything bad.
But then you started to think,
You grew up too fast, too free, too wild;
Didn't listen to what they told you,
Started to be a "problem child";
Even though you were bright,
You barely got through school;
You didn't care for the crap they taught,
You were no one's fool.
Where'd the prodigy child go?
The one everyone used to talk about?
Now he's living in a dead-end world
Shrouded in confusion and doubt.
Now you're trying to reach for the past
But the past just shakes its head:
Where did the little prodigy go?
The prodigal son is dead. . .