a sullen figure walks
along a dusty road
his life was holy
and he couldn't bear the load
he left his people
and simple life behind
he raised his torso
and looked into the sky
shouting his questions
looking for directions
what do I do now
now a confused schoolgirl
stares at the T.V. tray
the stresses of maturing
compound every day
she glances up to see
her favorite video
and gets ideas from
Madonna's nasty clothes
in need of affection
she craves a direction
her heroes offer her
everyone's looking for something
and they assume somebody
else knows what it is
no one can live without
the decisions of their own
it seems so they look
to someone else
to tell them what to do
tell'em what to wear
tell'em what to say
tell'em how to act and think
and compel others compulsively
until the world is all like them
<Interlude>
a righteous student came
and asked me to reflect
he judged my lifestyle
was politically incorrect
I don't believe
in self important
folks who preach
no Bad Religion song
can make your life complete
prepare for rejection
you'll get no direction from me
you'll get no direction from me
you'll get no direction from me
cked down
and they put you first in line
And so you finally ask yourself
just how big you are
and take your place in a wiser
world of bigger motor cars
<Intelrude>
So Where the hell was Biggles
when you needed him
last Saturday
And where were all the sportsmen
who always pulled you though
They're all resting down
in Cornwall
writing up their memoirs
for a paper-back edition
of the Boy Scout Manual
See there! A man born