Kon-Tiki - Ultrasound

Pack your bags, put on those rags

Leave everyone behind

Your golden age is over now

It’s just a state of mind

Batten down the hatches

There’s a twister on the way

That gathers all your hopes and dreams

And breaks them on the waves

I’ll never go home again

They won’t find me

Hiding in the shadows

The prodigal son killed his virtual Mum

And he sashayed down the hall

His earrings swung to the beat of the young

And his high heels paced the floor

Haunted by the child, the dresses that you dared to wear

Haunted by the knowledge that’s what makes the child a man