The Ballad

When the working day is done
I refuse to belong to anyone.
And at night when I try to sleep
I hear the house of commerce in my dreams…
Somehow, someone, somewhere
owns everything I do.
Somehow, someone, somewhere
owns all of me and owns all of you.
There’s no charge,
there’s no crime,
but we’re all doing time.
To be honest there’s not much I can do but to sing a bad ballad for you.
I could suggest sabotage,
but success might prove a mirage.
'cause Somehow, someone, somewhere
owns everything I do.
Somehow, someone, somewhere
owns all of me and owns all of you.