American Style

Stuck at a desk job from morning 'til night
Unable to spend all my days how I like
I can't help but think if I just stick this out
Things will get better in time
There's always a reason to take the safe route
If I don't do this now, I will be stuck here for life
Now I play music as they walk down aisles
They're all out chasing monies, American-style
But I can't help but think this is right in our hands
As fragile as everything seems
Push through the walls and just follow the plan
Of doing what you love regardless of what it might bring
What makes this wrong? What makes this right? (wo-o-ah, wo-o-ah)
Who tells us all what to decide?
Huddled backstage right before a big show
Would you rather eat roach or be an eskimo?
And I can't help but think if we'd stayed where we were
And never laid it all out on the line
We'd be the same people as ten years ago
Still yearning for more while living our lives as a lie
What makes this wrong? What makes this right? (wo-o-ah, wo-o-ah)
Who tells us all what to decide?
What makes this wrong? What makes this right? (wo-o-ah, wo-o-ah)