Wind Up

Jethro Tull

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 halfassed 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 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 harmonise these lines

How do you dare to 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