He's not afraid of your judgement
He knows of horrors worse than your Hell
He's a little bit afraid of dying
But he's a lot more afraid of your lying.
And the things that he fears
Are a weapon to be held against him.
We've got nothing to fear but fear itself
Not pain or failure, not fatal tragedy
Not the faulty units in this mad machinery
Not the broken contacts in emotional chemistry?
With an iron fist in a velvet glove
We are sheltered under the gun
In the glory game on the power train
Thy kingdom's will be done.
