Wind Up

When I was young and they packed me off to school
And taught me how not to play the game
I didn't mind if they groomed me for success
Or if they said that I was a fool

So I left there in the morning
With their God tucked underneath my arm -
Their half-assed smiles and the book of rules

And I asked this God a question
And by way of firm reply
He said - I'm not the kind you have to wind up on Sundays

So to my old headmaster (and to anyone who cares):
Before I'm through I'd like to say my prayers -

I don't believe you:
You had the whole damn thing all wrong -
He's not the kind you have to wind up on Sundays
Well you can excommunicate me on my way to Sunday school
And have all the bishops harmonize these lines -

How do you dare tell me that I'm my Father's son
When that was just an accident of Birth
I'd rather look around me - compose a better song
'Cos that's the honest measure of my worth
In your pomp and all your glory you're a poorer man than me
As you lick the boots of death born out of fear

When I was young and they packed me off to school
And taught me how not to play the game
I didn't mind if they groomed me for success
Or if they said that I was a fool
I left there in the morning
With their God under my arm -
Their half-assed smiles and the book of rules

Well you can excommunicate me on my way to Sunday school
Have all the bishops harmonize these lines -
When I was young and they packed me off to school
And they taught me how not to play the game
I didn't mind if they groomed me for success
Or if they said that I was a fool

So to my old headmaster (and to anyone who cares):
Before I'm through I'd like to say my prayers -
Well you can excomunicate me on my way to Sunday school
And have all the bishops harmonize these lines -

I don't believe you:
You had the whole damn thing all wrong -
He's not the kind you have to wind up on Sundays