take off your dress son, dry your eyes.
it's a good day for fishing; cool winds and clear skies.
what do you mean you don't like it outside?
girls play with tea sets and boys get in fights; cowboys and indians and making mud pies, bought you a left-handed reel, let's go give it a try.
why we gotta do this each and every single time?
your son on the border.
he's no son of mine.
boy, i've been working, piano's too loud.
silence is golden so don't make a sound.
your empty vessel stays here on the ground.
but i was here, and i'm still here.
it worked up a cyclone, the speed of the change, nothing but trouble, nothing the same.
bent over textbooks, i didn't fail once, bent over a toilet for a couple of months.
but if i'm bent over double in your comfort zone, fenced in a suit and a white picket home, i'd like to think i'd get a tick on your list as a top certified human rights activist.
why we gotta do this each and every single time?
he says, "i didn't order this son of mine."
but mum would be happy, because dad would be proud, see me for once with two feet on the ground, and after i'd choked i could shout it out loud, "i'm dad's favourite son."
come home each day, i would play.
i'd hear your feet on the stairs and did you know: in every note i said, "hear me."
could i make you hear me?
and down at the pink parade, we see how things can change.
who'd think we could break the chain? so many ways the same.
now that we are through this, and through the window of time, all those expectations, they were mostly just mine.
so high in your hopes, high in your hands, i know you were doing the best that you can.
and those shoes aren't so big now that i am a man.

Lyrics submitted by playedinstereo

favourite son song meanings
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