wrote this song during one of Bos's unbelievably great and interesting geography classes...

Ya do yer best to fit in,
To be nice, not to sin
Ya send yer son to sunday school,
To expensive colleges, so he won't be no fool
Ya pay yer taxes like an honest, respectable man
Help yer company to profits as much as ya can...

But when ya die ya die
Ya won't go to heaven or even reincarnate as a fly
You'll be gone and forgotten,
While nobody knows why...
Screwed up life...

Ya hand yer son the bloody car keys,
tell him 'don't drink 'n drive, stay clear of police'
After he leaves ya fall to yer knees and pray
'Oh lord, watch over this young soul' is what ya say
Late at night he collides with a truck,
Yer drunken son is still alive but the girls in the back didn't have such luck

But when ya die ya die
Ya won't go to heaven or even reincarnate as a fly
You'll be gone and forgotten,
While nobody knows why...
Screwed up life...

After ya die ya'll be buried under the ground
And once a year yer son'll come around
He'll be there for 5 minutes, drop roses, pray...
And then he'll get in his brand new car and be on his way...
Father and son, so alike, so the same...
'n over a few centuries everybody'll have forgotten their goddam name...