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 assed 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 assed 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