The Immigrant
The Prodigals Lyrics

You may dream of a land, of a far-distant land
You might yearn for a place far away

Where the clouds drift above,
Where clouds loom overhead,

White over green grass and clover
Where the grass and clover are green,

Do the songs still go on are the races now won
Wondering if the races are still happening and the songs still sung,

By fellows you used to win over
By people you used to impress,

Do they still recall those days long ago
If they still remember the good old days,

Are their images those the windows of life still adorning
If they still hold on to old memories,

Do they feel that ache that you can never shake
If they, too, feel the pain that never fades,

That wakes with you still in the morning
That haunts you even in the morning,

You may drink when you're dry
You might drink when feeling thirsty,

You may laugh till you cry
You might laugh until you weep,

And the tears from your eyes keep on falling
And rolling tears never seem to stop,

For lethe it runs slow, and never may you know
For time heals wounds gradually and may not make you forget,

Respite from your heart still recalling
Respite from your heart, still holding onto the memories,

If anger glows slow there's a fuse in a jug
If your anger simmers, there's a release in a bottle,

A jug filled with punch
A container filled with a strong alcoholic beverage,

A jug filled with punch in the evening
At night time, a heavy mixture to drown your emotions,

There's the world in your hand, who can ever understand
You feel like you hold the weight of the world and it's unexplainable,

Why the jar or two leaves you grieving
Why drinking an excessive amount of alcohol leaves you feeling worse,

Do you torture yourself, is it not you at all,
Is it your own doing, or are you blaming others,

Is it others' fault instead you can't take a breath without sighing
Are you depressed because of others, or is it a part of you,

There's no logic that you know, that can ever make it so
You can't reason with your emotions,

But twenty pints or so stops you dying
But drinking an excessive amount of alcohol seems to alleviate the pain,

Now you're old, vast, and gray
Now that you're old and feeble,

And living in the 'burbs,
Living in the suburbs,

In the bunkers of town,
In the rundown part of the city,

Archie bunkered down in the trenches
Like Archie, you hunker down in the trenches and feel stuck,

You've established your redoubt,
You've established your coping mechanism,

Immigrants keep out
And you don't want new people in your life,

Nostalgia and cops your defenses
You depend on nostalgia and police to keep you safe,