Loud Son

[Intro]
Some, son cold hands, and you—
A black suit would—
A mirror wrote about the sin your praise

[Chorus]
Then come home my children
'Cause the priests are getting tired of making amends again

[Verse]
I'll play some music that we both like
And push the table against the wall
So there's room to dance all night
You had nothing to do with that sunset
That's why I keep it close at hand
But still I can't wait to go to sleep
In a bed of freshly made sheets, alone

[Chorus]
Then come home my children
'Cause the priests are getting tired of making amends again