The Good Son (Live)

One more man gone One more man gone One more man is gone The good son walks into the field He is a tiller, he has a tiller's hands But down in his heart now He lays down his queer plans Against his brother and against his family Yet he worships his brother And he worships his mother But it's his father, he says, is an unfair man The good son The good son The good son The good son has sat and often wept Beneath a malign star by which he's kept And the night-time in which he's wrapped Speaks of good and speaks of evil And he calls to his mother And he calls to his father But they are deaf in the shadows Of his brother's truancy The good son The good son The good son The good son And he curses his mother And he curses his father And he curses his virtue like an unclean thing The good son The good son The good son One more man gone One more man gone One more man One more man gone One more man gone One more man One more man gone One more man gone One more man