| Smoke over the city’s soul
|
| Pollutes our sons and daughters
|
| You can fall asleep on sheets of gold
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| And still wake up a pauper
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| We all get old
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| We all slow down
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| As the walls they close
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| We fall we’re drowning
|
| I need some breathing space
|
| I won’t grow old with grace
|
| I need some breathing space
|
| I can’t keep living straight…
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| We ain’t gonna linger and lie low
|
| When there’s hard cash coming back
|
| No way I’ll just sit here when I know
|
| That there’s hard cash coming back
|
| Hard hard cash
|
| Don’t want no easy money
|
| Money couldn’t buy me happiness
|
| Just a prettier misery
|
| There’s a price to pay
|
| For a life of luxury
|
| The air is thin
|
| The glare the smoke and
|
| The wear within
|
| It tears it’s choking
|
| I need some breathing space
|
| I won’t grow old with grace
|
| I need some breathing space
|
| I can’t keep living straight…
|
| We ain’t gonna linger and lie low
|
| When there’s hard cash coming back
|
| No way I’ll just sit here when I know
|
| That there’s hard cash coming back
|
| Hard hard cash
|
| Don’t want no easy money
|
| And now that we have all arrived
|
| My friends get in your cars and drive |