Jenna

The 666 from long ago.

Song by The Who ‧ 1971

We'll be fighting in the streets

With our children at our feet

And the morals that they worship will be gone

And the men who spurred us on

Sit in judgement of all wrong

They decide and the shotgun sings the song

I'll tip my hat to the new Constitution

Take a bow for the new revolution

Smile and grin at the change all around

Pick up my guitar and play

Just like yesterday

Then I'll get on my knees and pray

We don't get fooled again

A change, it had to come

We knew it all along

We were liberated from the fold, that's all

And the world looks just the same

And history ain't changed

'Cause the banners, they all flown in the last war

I'll tip my hat to the new Constitution

Take a bow for the new revolution

Smile and grin at the change all around

Pick up my guitar and play

Just like yesterday

Then I'll get on my knees and pray

We don't get fooled again, no, no

I'll move myself and my family aside

If we happen to be left half-alive

I'll get all my papers and smile at the sky

For I know that the hypnotized never lie

Do you?

Yeah

There's nothing in the street

Looks any different to me

And the slogans are effaced, by-the-bye

And the parting on the left

Is now parting on the right

And the beards have all grown longer overnight

I'll tip my hat to the new Constitution

Take a bow for the new revolution

Smile and grin at the change all around

Pick up my guitar and play

Just like yesterday

Then I'll get on my knees and pray

We don't get fooled again

Don't get fooled again, no, no

Yeah

Meet the new boss

People what have you done?

Locked Him in His golden cage

Golden cage

Made Him bend to your religion

Him resurrected from the grave

From the grave

He is the God of nothing

If that's all that you can see

You are the God of everything

He's inside you and me

So lean upon Him gently

And don't call on Him to save

You from your social graces

And the sins you used to waive

The bloody Church of England

In chains of history

Requests your earthly presence

At the vicarage for tea

And the graven image

You know who

With his plastic crucifix

He's got Him fixed

Confuses me as to who and where and why

As to how he gets his kicks

He gets his kicks

Confessing to the endless sin

With endless whining sounds

You'll be praying 'til next Thursday