Who are you to tell me what side God's onnwhat side's right and what side's wrongnwho are you to absolve my sinsnor to whisper about the shape I'm innyou....so tightlipped and so coynwith an altar full of shiny toysnand a mother still too overjoyednat what's become of her darling boynnSoft in the middle and soft in the headnchildren for your daily breadnthundering down curses at all thosenwho dare to step out of their clothesnwhat do you see when you close your eyesnoverwhelmed with the booby prizencutting others down to sizenand teaching the rest to ostracizenndressed to impressnunderneath a messnplace in the country for you to have your restnwhere you and the children can coalescenafter their souls you prepossessnnwith great finessenyou relieve your stressnand like zombies the kids they all regressnand then they learn how to repressnas they acquiesce their sins to professnnHeaven and hell and all that stuffnbut you like 'em young and you like it roughnsaints and sinners and tramps and thievesna bottle of Jack on bended kneesnEve brought Adam down with a piece of fruitnyou with a collar and a black suitnnow all the pope's horses and all the pope's menncan't put you back together againnndressed to impressnunderneath a messnplace in the country for you to have your restnwhere you and the children can coalescenafter their souls you prepossessnnwith great finessenyou relieve your stressnand like zombies the kids they all regressnand then they learn how to repressnas they acquiesce their sins to profess