Lyrics: Part Two

See there, a man is born, and we pronounce him fit for peace
There's a load lifted from his shoulders with the discovery of his disease
We'll take the child from him, put it to the test
Teach it to be a wise man, how to fool the rest

(We will be gearing toward the average rather than the exceptional)
(God's an overwhelming responsibility)

(We walked through the maternity ward and saw 218 babies wearing nylons)

(It says here that cats are on the upgrade, upgrade?)

In the clear white circles of morning wonder
I take my place with the lord of the hills
And the blue-eyed soldiers stand slightly discolored
In neat little rows, sporting canvas frills

With their jock-straps pinching, they slouch to attention
Whilst queuing for sarnies at the office canteen
Singing, "How's your grannie?", and good old Ernie
He coughed up a tenner on a premium bond win

The legends worded in the ancient tribal hymn
Lie cradled in the seagull's call
And all the promises they made are ground beneath the sadist's fall

The poet and the wise man stand behind the gun
And signal for the crack of dawn, light the sun
Do you believe in the day

The dawn creation of the kings has begun
Soft Venus lonely maiden brings the ageless one
Do you believe in the day

The fading hero has returned to the night
And fully pregnant with the day, wise men endorse the poet's sight
Do you believe in the day

Let me tell you the tales of your life
Of your love and the cut of the knife
The tireless oppression the wisdom instilled
The desire to kill or be killed
Let me sing of the losers who lie
In the street as the last bus goes by
The pavements are empty, the gutters run red
While the fool toasts his god in the sky

So, come all ye young men who are building castles
Kindly state the time of the year
And join your voices in a hellish chorus
Mark the precise nature of your fear

Let me help you to pick up your dead
As the sins of the fathers are fed
With the blood of the fools and the thoughts of the wise
And from the pan under your bed
Let me make you a present of song
As the wise man breaks wind and is gone
While the fool with the hour-glass is cooking his goose
And the nursery rhyme winds along

So, come all ye young men who are building castles
Kindly state the time of the year
And join your voices in a hellish chorus
Mark the precise nature of your fear
See, the summer lightning casts its bolts upon you
And the hour of judgment draweth near
Would you be the fool stood in the suit of armour
Of the wiser man who rushes clear

So, come on you childhood heroes, won't you rise up from the pages
Of your comic-books, your super-crooks, and show us all the way
Well, make your will and testament, won't you join your local government
We'll have Superman for president, let Robin save the day

So, where the hell was Biggles when you needed him last Saturday
And where are all the sportsmen who always pulled you through
They're all resting down in Cornwall, writing up their memoirs
For a paperback edition of the boy scout manual

So you ride yourselves over the fields
And you make all your animal deals
And your wise men don't know how it feels
To be thick as a brick