الكلمات
كلمات للدراسة
Smoke over the city's soul
Pollutes our sons and daughters
You can fall asleep on sheets of gold
And still wake up a pauper
We all get old
We all slow down
As the walls they close
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...
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
