Started mail room
Moved up through clerical, now obituaries
I am the teacher's son, I am the teacher's son
I am the teacher's son, I'm the teacher's son

Never seen a sky so big
Like it's been saving up for years
Clouds from Russia press-ganged in
Until the dateline disappears

I have loved and lost
Like the river's lost and found
But I've never fought the tide
And I've never ***ked around
I'm the teacher's son

My favorite sound is church bells
And my greatest love's the sea
Though I never learnt to swim
Never trusted it with me

I wrote a novel in my twenties
Though it never left my head
A thousand words a sitting
'Til all the characters were dead
I'm the teacher's son

My father was a poet
Though he never got the chance
'Cause his words looked like another's
If you took them at a glance

But he met a girl so pretty
That he asked her to a dance
And there his words they died liked flowers
There his words, they lost all power

I've been told I have his ways
I've been told I have his grace
But he left me on my birthday
And the only thing remains
I'm the teacher's son