(N. Giraldo, M. Grombacher)
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 your 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 gonna be alright (he said), it's gonna be alright
There's nothing that's here for us, that we won't mind missin'


Never see the light 'til your tradin' down

There's no future for the 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, tradin' down, tradin' down

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