Turn Those Clapping Hands Into Angry Balled Fists

Sleep on pillows made in Singapore
Wrapped in comforters, sweating through sheets
Drinking coffee in the morning
Floating on airplanes across vast seas

And your house is made of wood
Central air, central eat
You got your furniture on particle board
Your doors are locked for safety

And you walk around in shoes
Pants of denim, a black cotton sweatshirt
And you do what you do
Because in doing you start to form a habit

And you drink all night long
And you sleep through the morning
And if something doesn't break
You're just going to go

Go fucking insane

And you sweep the floor when it's dirty
You do the dishes when the sink's full
And when the refridgerator's empty
Well it's time, it's time, it's time to go the store

You put your books on a shelf
Clothes arranged in a closet
You put the things on the walls
That you don't want to be so easily forgotten

I hate these songs, I hate the words
That the singer is singing to me
I hate this melody
I hate this stupid fucking drum beat

But I'm not going to tell anyone
What I'm really thinking about
Just keep conversation on the surface
Just keep on smiling

Just keep on saying
Everything's going to be all right
It's going to be all right
All right