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 howls 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.



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.