I work in the city
Commute to the country
'Cause nothing is cozy
And nothing is comfy

I live for the weekend
When I can sleep in
And tend to my children
And clean up the pigpen

I see all the airplanes
Flyin' above me
I bet that they're going
Someplace quite lovely

I dream about beaches
And drinks with umbrellas
And babes in bikinis
With greased-up gorillas, oh

No surprises, no retreats
Here come marchin' to the beat
Little sheep
One, two, three, nah

I'm stuck in the muck
And caught in the mire
The blade in my back
Was forged in the fire

The city has fallen
Down to her knees
With rental equipment
To clear out the trees, oh

No surprises, no retreats
Here come marchin' to the beat
All the little sheep

Just let the mind go off and fantasize
No time's a bad time to escape a while
Beyond reality adventure lies
You don't need a ticket to take this ride