Pat Benatar

We paint this town in shades of gray
And the walls look high
'Til you step away
Ain't it funny how you can look around
And never see the truth
'Til it knocks you down
Never see the light
'Til you're tradin down
Work hard labor for your daily bread
While the golden dream spins around your head
Time gets money, money buys you time
For the foolish things that you left behind
Workin workin overtime
And tradin down
It's gunna be alright (he said)
It's gunna be alright
There's nothing that's here for us
That we won't mind missin
There's no future for thw workin man
See him growin old in the promised land
Nothin to show for the wasted years
But a heart full of hollow
And a taste of tears
Pushin Monday to the wall and
Tradin' Down...