Wind-Up

When I was young and they packed me off to school And they taught me how not to play the game Oh, 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 under my arm Their half a*sed smiles and the book of rules Then 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" And to my old headmaster and to anyone who cares Before I'm through I'd like to say my prayers Oh, I don't believe you, you had the whole damn thing all wrong And he's not the kind you have to wind-up on Sunday 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? Oh, I'd rather look around me, compose a better song 'Cos that's the honest measure of my worth And 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 Oh, I didn't mind if they groomed me for success Or if they said that I was just a fool And so I left there in the morning With their God under my arm The half a*sed smiles and the book of rules And you can excommunicate me on my way to Sunday school And 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 Oh, I didn't mind if they groomed me for success Or if they said that I was just a fool And so to my old headmaster and to anyone who cares Before I'm through I'd like to say my prayers And 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 And he's not the kind you have to wind-up on a Sunday