I'm tired of lickin' them boots that been-a-kickin' me! Sick of them sour grapes they keep-a pickin' me! Set loose your wings, cut the strings of your puppeteers Freedom begins, baby, between your ears Reach for the sky You do not have to buy what they been advertisin' Not when you're mile high and risin! Opened my eyes to the lies that'd been a-trickin' me! Cut all the horns, pulled the thorns that'd been-stickin' me! Chorus If you got the feelin' what they're dealin' got you livin' under way too low a Ceiling... Cut through your doom and your gloom C'mon and grab yourself some headroom Chorus