School bell go "Ding! Dong! Ding!" The children all line up They do what they are told Take a little drink from the liar's cup
Mama don't really care If what they learn is true Or if it's only lies Just get them through the factories Into production Ah, get them into line
Late in the afternoon The children all come home They mind their manners well Their little lives are all laid out
Mama don't seem to care If she may break their hearts She clips their wings off, they never learn to fly Poor Mama needs a source of pride A doctor son she'll have No what the cost to manhood or to soul
Sun shine down, brightly shine Down on all the land Shine down on the newborn lambs A butcher's knife is in his hand
Mama, she keeps them unprepared To meet the enemy That's comin' unto us Teach them that evil dwells across the sea Lives in a mountain Like they see on TV
Down in the heart of town The Devil dresses up He keeps his nails clean Did you think he'd be a boogeyman?
Oh, Mama's stuck with sagging dreams She'll sell a son or two into some slavery That's lucrative and fine Just teach them not to criticize Say "Yes" to bosses, impress the clients Ah teachers of the world teach them to fake it well
School bell go "Ding! Dong! Ding!" The children all line up They do what they are told Take a little drink from the liar's cupTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
