Alannah Myles

Little tramp comin' up the strip with a hundred dollar smile
Sparks flyin' off her fingertips, drive the young cop wild
Some nights are wound so tight like a storm about to break
Better stand in your doorway when everything starts to shake
You get restless like a cat waking up at midnight,
Hungry, never quite satisfied
Chorus:
This is our world and these are our times
This is our world and these are our times
Little brother like a street god with a drop dead attitude
Say he's looking like a shadow now, runnin' low on green and food
Some lives are wound up tight like a wave about to crash
Hard times seem to multiply while the joy runs out so fast