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)