WIND UP

      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 just 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 trough,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 bishops harmonise 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.
      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.


            výheň