Texty piesní Ball in the House

Ball in the House

Fantasy Land

Going to my big 9 to 5 job

Everybody’s going to their big 9 to 5 job

You punch in your card and then turn your brain off

Everybody’s going to their big corporation

You were feeding from a bottle then, now you’re feeding from a trough

But I’m in fantasyland

Where I’m driving past the cattle

They make you build a box

You squeeze yourself in

And tell yourself that dreaming

Is some kind of sin

But I’d rather live in a box on the street

Than to have some Martha Stewart tell me what caviar to eat

(I tell Martha what to eat)

When I torch your office you’ll wish you lit the match

When I torch the teacher’s lounge you’ll wish you lit the match

But I’m in fantasyland

I’m sick of reality

My mom and dad lied

The world doesn’t revolve around me

My eyes are open wide

I made a bargain in kindergarten

I told myself to push myself and wait for tomorrow

Do I matter in this scheme?

Or take one for the team?

Or take one for the team, a team I never understood

Going to my big 9 to 5 job

They teach you to give up

To paint inside the lines

You have no purpose

But to spit up spit out spit it back

Take a look around, cause it’s you they're putting down

You’ll wish you were in fantasyland

Everybody’s going to their big 9 to 5 job

Everybody’s going but they don’t want to go no, no, no

I’m in fantasyland