Torn and molded, hand and foot, to be what we create,
Look up at sir and hold your tongue. Empty your mind of hate.
Do not allow your face to catch my swiftly moving hand.
As justice purifies your mind, your pain makes my demand.
Do not allow the poison from your mouth to stain my love.
My discipline you ought to see from he who reigns up above.
You must obey objective truth, and shun all on their path
Lest you fall short. We pray you don’t. Or you will feel our wrath.
You will be superior. Compete at what you see
Lest you fall short. You must become who we make you to be.
You must become the man we tried so hard to make you be.