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 told 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'd 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
'Cause 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 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

I left there in the morning
With 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 just a fool

So, I told my old headmaster
And to anyone who cares,
"Before I'm through I'd like to say my prayers."

Well, you can excommunicate 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