Years spent on
Droning hymns
At Sunday school
(Our Father, son and holy ghost)
Prostrate on
Orders culled
From ancient rule
(Don? T tell them where old hands may go)
Just sit down
And shut up and don? T think
? Til we turn you on
Just sit down
And shut up and don? T speak
Cause there? S nothing wrong
Honor codes
Carved in stone
With blood and bone
(Lost on their Fields of friendly strife)
It? S not enough
To say you
Just don? T know
(How dare you come through it alive)
Now raise a
Picket fence
And settle down
(It? S time you found yourself a life)
You? Re much too
Old to sit and
Play the clown
(You have no right to feel alive)