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.