Traditions Lyrics

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)