Turn Those Clapping Hands Into Angry Balled Fists (Live)

Sleep on pillows made is Singapore

Wrapped in comforters

Sweatin' through sheets

Drinkin' coffee in the morning

Floatin' on Airplanes across the vast seas

And your house is made of wood

Central air, central heat

You got your furniture on particle board

Your doors are locked for, for safety

And your walkin' around in shoes

Pants of denim, a black cotton sweatshirt

And you do what you do

because 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

I'm just gonna go, go fucking insane

And you sweep up the floor when its dirty

You do the dishes, when the sinks full

And when the refrigerators empty

well its time its time its time, its time to go the store

You put your books on a shelf

Clothes arranged in the closet

You hang the things on the wall that you don't want to be so easily forgotten

I hate these songs

I hate the words

That the singer is singin' to me

I hate this melody

I hate this stupid fucking drum beat

But I'm not gonna tell anyone

What I'm really thinking about

Keep the conversations on the surface

Just keep on smiling

Just keep on saying

Everything's gonna be alright

[Repeat: x2]

It's gonna be alright

Alright