The American Dream
You got American apple pie in the trunk of your Japanese Car.
Everyday you see the super-city hocus-pocus and you've fallen prey to its allure.
Your six-figure salary makes your eyes glitter so that you don't even see how it's made you so bitter.
You're at the top of the world,
the height of your game;
but then you dine out with old friends
who say, "You just ain't the same."
You're a power-broker bossman
, always the first on the scene.
If someone dares
beat you tomorrow the next day you'll reign supreme
You've had too much success
, it's gone straight to your head
"Cut me a piece of that gold pie instead."
The Dream's a hallucination,
the hallucination a cure
for the shocking realization that
your life's just a blur.
But that you don't mind 'cuz you got something that's in.
You got the American Dream--
What a sin.