A little boy, it's Sunday mass
And little boys get bored
During prayer, idle hands
Neatly tear Job right from the bible

The preacher sees, and he strikes him
But the boy strikes him back
Because he thinks fair is fair
They box his ears, still he hears
Some lady swear

Hes a lost boy
Just a lost boy
Oh if he were mine
Oh if here were mine

Mother heard what the lady said
And she just shook her head

And as the boy grew older
He never quite grew up
Needed more, so he screwed the housemaid
Caught ashore, away with a sailor

Carted home, almost nightly
Till he's brought into court
And charged for all he had done
The judge asked him why
And the boy just said 'I thought it sounded like fun.'
And the judge cried 'lost boy.'
'You're a lost boy.'
'Thank god you're not mine.'
'Thank god you're not mine.'

His father heard his sentence pass
And man, he ran so fast

But doesn't every person
Deserve a second chance?

Take this boy, free and changed now
Sick with joy, to return to his family

But there's some new kid
In his window
His father holding him tight
He never held me before

Just couldn't stand
Ran away
And how he swore

'Go get lost boy.'
'Go get lost boy.'
'These people aren't mine'
'This family isn't mine.'
'And fine, no its better. Its divine.'
'My parents wished they never had me.'
'Yours are just a mess.'
'Its like, why anybody cares for them.'
'Its anybodies guess.'