Am G
Dear prodigal, you are my son and I
F C G
Supplied you not your spirit, but your shape.
Am G
All Eden's wealth arrayed before your eyes;
F G
I fathomed not you wanted to escape.
Am G
And though I only ever gave you love,
F C G
like every child you've chosen to rebel;
G Am
uprooted flowers and filled the holes with blood;
D G
Ask not for whom they toll the solemn bells.
C G
A child of dust to mother now return;
Am G
for every seed must die before it grows.
F C
And though above the world may toil and turn,
G
no prying spade will find you here below.
C G F
Now safe beneath their wisdom and their feet,
C G F
here I will teach you truly how to sleep.
