I'm Still Your Son

Chris:
Ma, Pa,
Its been half a decade behind those walls,
I have been out a couple of times to weed cabbage and throw trash,
I haven't seen you for all the years, only little Cate came,
My sister, your daughter.

Ma:
Former son, theft was almost treason to our reputation,
Your father lost clients because they saw him your accomplice,
Your sister hasn't attracted a suitable suitor,
All who come are worth a thief's sister,
And we aren't thieves son, you made us.

Chris:
Yes, I pleaded guilty because I was,
And deserved the time served,
But I knew I was still your son,
Ayieko forgave my shameful act of theft,
He even visited me and saw my joy through the zebra tatters,
Cate cried the first time,
She said she got my letters,
But that Ma and Pa had denounced their shameful son,
And wouldn't waste time visiting a thug,
That I was a weed in the family tree and that prison would burn that out.

Ma:
Former son, we even sold your inheritance,
We saw no value in a son who lived half a decade among goons,
A son with no certification, whose early youth was spent behind tall walls,
A stain on the white sheet his ancestors wove over years,
You are a curse to us all,
We hoped shame and guilt would kill your soul there,
And make you forget home when you got out.

Chris:
Ma, even if you denounced your son,
And call him 'Former Son',
To him, you're still Ma and Pa,
When I was in your womb I wasn't a curse, was I?
When I won trophies I wasn't a curse, was I?
When I saved your face in admitting writing a shameful letter,
Which Pa had written for his threat in banana business,
I wasn't a curse, was I?
All the times I ran to your wide embrace and you rewarded me with a smile,
I wasn't a curse, was I?
All the moments you taught me forgiveness and the prodigal son,
I wasn't in the wrong class, or was I?
Ma, I care less of the inheritance,
I have inherited skills from prison and ready to stand on my own,
All I need are some tools and small capital,
I'm sure Pa can afford, but still can lend me if he wishes,
But from the bottom of my heart, I love you Ma and Pa and Cate.

Ma:
Son, my tears betray me, and my tounge is tied,
Come in and welcome back home,
Am sure your Pa will see the sense,
Forgive me son.

By Rapando

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