American Daydream (A Cappella)

Now he's got a good job
Pays well
In a world of round holes
Squares don't oft excel

Born a little wild child
Is he on his meds?
Iron out the wrinkles
Sand away the edge

Picking up on subplots
No one else could catch
But losing sight of foreground
Failing all the tests

A little isolation
Goes a long way
We do it for his own good
You misunderstood

Your time is up, your pencils down, you're the class clown
You won't get far on American daydreams
Hide your smirk, show your work, and get Cs
The clay of you that's shaped by me
Forget the I become the we

Right angled edges to pi squared depressions
The kids know you're different, you fuckup, you idiot
With all of these round holes, a square never fits in
But now he's got his shit together
Traded all his flair for fetter
And now he's got a good job



Credits
Writer(s): Andrew Mcmullen
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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