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)