| Looks across the fields
|
| That lie across the playground
|
| Dreams of life beyond the gates
|
| And far from this town
|
| Trapped inside a room
|
| With boring little children
|
| Leon dreams of life
|
| Outside his hollow building
|
| He is stuck inside his head, and in a whirl
|
| He feels like running out, and owning all the world
|
| Bleach, and corridors
|
| And cold, and drafty windows
|
| Smells that drift along
|
| From dinner hall up his nose
|
| Under lock, and key
|
| His dreams, his aspirations
|
| One day, one man, one way
|
| One bag, and one station
|
| He is stuck inside his head, and in a whirl
|
| He feels like running out, and owning all the world
|
| Rules, and regulations
|
| Clocks, and times, and tables
|
| In this goldfish bowl
|
| He’s powerless trapped unable
|
| Sick of marching
|
| To the beat of others drumming
|
| Step aside for the new king
|
| For Leon’s coming
|
| He is stuck inside his
|
| He feels like running
|
| He feels like running
|
| He feels like running
|
| He is stuck inside his
|
| He feels like running
|
| He feels like running
|
| He feels like running
|
| Head, and i n a whirl
|
| Out, and owning all the world
|
| Out, and owning all the world
|
| Out, and owning all the world
|
| Head, and in a whirl
|
| Out, and owning all the world
|
| Out, and owning all the world
|
| Out, and owning all the world |