When I was a child, my mother
Would tuck me in to bed
And each night as she kissed me
These are the words that she said
She said: Don’t go to bed with strangers
Don’t play with the dead
Always keep your wits sharp
Like an axe inside the shed
When I was just a school boy
My father, he spoke unto me
He said: Boychick, my son, don’t trust anyone
And remember that nothing is free
And the world is full of strangers
The world is full of dread
The world is full of sharpened wits
And millions of tears you will shed
When I was young man
My professor at university
Said: Advice is corrupting!
Don’t ever be trusting!
Don’t show your emotion!
Human suffering is an ocean
And it’s dark at the bottom of the sea
And there’s no such thing as a stranger
We’re all equally backwards and wrong
Sharpen axes not wits
Bones are broken by sticks
And you’ll never be free till you’re strong
Well, young men grow older
And the world gets colder
Though it never was warm to begin
Don’t let down your guard
For the reaper works hard
And he will not take pause ‘till you’re dead
Now I am old and I’m rusty
My troubles like sand on the beach
They can’t be calculated, I always have waited
For something that’s just out of reach
And I to myself am a stranger
My heart is of iron and lead
My world is resounding with miseries abounding
There’s only one thing to be said
