Suffer the Little Children

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, she don't really care If what they learn is true Or if what they learn is lies Just get them through the factories Into production or 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, she don't seem to care If she may break their hearts She clips their wings off, they never learn to fly Ah, poor Mama needs a source of pride A doctor son she'll have No matter what the cost To manhood or to soul, oh Sunshine down brightly shine Down on all the land Shine down on the newborn lamb The butcher's knife is in his hand Mama, she keeps them unprepared To meet the enemy, so calming unto all Teach them that evil dwells Across the sea or lives in a mountain Like they see on TV It's down in the heart of town The Devil dresses up He keeps his nails clean What, did you think he was a boogeyman? Poor Mama 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 Have teachers of the world Teach them to fake it well, oh 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 --- Suffer the Little Children - Morrissey