Bowling along the street like an empty carton
Mouthing words to music no-one else can hear
Rolling in the gutter like a stolen hubcab
The force field means no-one will come near
I’ve got a right to fly
And you’re wrong to bring me down
I’ve got my head in the clouds
And my feet on the ground
I’ve got a right to fly
And you’re wrong to bring me down
I’ve got a right to fly
Try and engage some conversation
But people’s teeth grind and hackles rise
And then they get that glazed look in their eyes
They press a tarnished coin into my greasy mitt
My clothes catch the rain, the sun, the sweat
I’ve got a right to fly
And you’re wrong to bring me down
I’ve got my head in the clouds
And my feet on the ground
I’ve got a right to fly
And you’re wrong to bring me down
I’ve got a right to fly
One last soldier behind a shield of offense
People attacking with curled lips and glances
Mind grows propellers and pilots
And retro-rockets taking off to where the alley wind dances
I’ve got a right to fly
And you’re wrong to bring me down
I’ve got my head in the clouds
And my feet on the ground
I’ve got a right to fly
And you’re wrong to bring me down
I’ve got a right to fly
You’re wrong
You’re so wrong