Make the effort to peruse the ideas of one more time alone.
Maybe thinking you are the “best” is not the thing unknown.
These times, these days, have proven naught.
For each and every one has told his own don’t go get caught.
Each child, brought up a sinner.
Each child, told to lie.
Smile at mother, hate at father, Oedipus was right.
Secretly you wish to “kill” him, but just won’t put up the fight.
Listen now, the time is coming, hark to this my dear.
No one ever beat the bullet, don’t start trying, do you hear?
Each child, brought up a sinner.
Each child, told to lie.
Tell the teacher you didn’t hit her, make her shut her yap.
Watch poor “baby” in her corner, stuck there like a mouse and trap.
Soon enough, silly boy, you will see.
The fighting leads so hate and lustful jealousy.
Each child, brought up a sinner.
Each child, told to lie.
Show the promise and the headmaster will think you’ll stop the game.
But the “rush” is just so good; it’s a sort of futile fame.
Yesteryear, wherefore, my friends,
This game was free and money the only way to connect the ends.
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