Turn Those Clapping Hands Into Angry Balled Fists

Sleep on pillows made in Singapore Wrapped in comforters, sweating through sheets Drink your coffee in the morning Flown in on airplanes across vast seas And your house is made of wood Central air, central heat You got your furniture of particle board Your doors are locked for safety And you walk in leather shoes Pants of denim, a black cotton sweatshirt You do what you do Because doing can start to form a habit And you drink all night long And you sleep through the morning If something doesn't break I'm just going to go, go fucking insane You sweep and mop the floor when it's dirty Do the dishes when the sink is full And when the refrigerator's empty, it's time, it's time It's time to go to the store You put your books on a shelf Clothes arranged in the closet You hang 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 Keeping conversations on the surface, just keep on smiling Just keep on saying everything's going to be alright