suffer the little children

Morrissey

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
Oh 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
Oh poor Mama needs a source of pride
A doctor son she'll have
No matter 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
So coming 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'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 cup