Heaven 17

Sweat my youth away
With the rules we have to play
Speeding through your magazine
Pistol, pavement, no T.V.
Talk and talk
No time, night time
Burnt inside
Chorus:
Here comes the daylight, here comes my job
Uptown in the penthouse or downtown with the mob
Here comes the night time, here comes my role
Goodbye to the pavement, hello to my soul
Now here comes my job
Credit, bleeding with the mob
Dreams become ideals
No one knows the way I feel
Love to love
Daytime, right time