Son, you’re not going to fit in there; the place you call home

The church made of walls and rules and creeds of Rome

Son, you’re not going to fit in there

You’re not going to feel at home or welcome to join me on the throne

Son, you’re not going to fit in there

You’re going to shed some light…on what makes you cry at night

You’re going to claim your spot…the one the work was finished for

Son, you’re not going to fit in there

You’re going to be amused…by some fakes and flakes and see my name abused

You’re going to be confused, misunderstood and accused

Son, you’re not going to fit in there

You’re going to lose that fight

You were never meant to stay there, boxed in and out of sight.