I want to live in the elements I've spurned my comfort and common sense I've no imagined lost innocence I'll bleed you dry, no I won't pretend I'll be coming home, but I don't know when I felt your fire, I breathed your air We turned and twisted, our bruises bared I curse the ground still, I feel you everywhere In a fickle world, there's no stubborn love I can feel your ghost, when will you give up? It's a funny thing I heard of once The return of the prodigal son Oh, baby thrill me, make me feel good Flashes of neon, in frames of wood I don't feel guilty, maybe I should In a fickle world, there's no stubborn love I can feel your ghost, when will you give up? It's a funny thing I heard of once The return of the prodigal son In a fickle world, there's no stubborn love I can feel your ghost, when will you give up? It's a funny thing I heard of once The return of the prodigal son I saw the painting St. Petersburg Rembrandt's depiction of a return I am the oil and pigments mixed And I know nothing, but I know this I've been lost a long time in my head I've followed all the signs, but I was misled I'll be coming home, but I don't know when