52nd Street Lyrics
| Song | 52nd Street |
| Artist | Jack Bruce |
| Album | Shadows in the Air |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| It's always raining in here | |
| Each time I walk thro' these doors | |
| Expensive suits and cheap whores | |
| And I'm always sorry | |
| Money flows real fast | |
| Though I'm not supposed to touch | |
| But they always say how much | |
| They love my music | |
| No matter what I wear | |
| It's always freezing cold | |
| And their teeth are made of sharpened gold | |
| Tho' their smiles are Polished white | |
| Lives turn into units | |
| In this building built with fear | |
| They breathe contempt in here | |
| And they call it the record business | |
| Justice day will come | |
| And this steel will turn to rust | |
| And this concrete turn to dust | |
| And I won't be sorry | |
| My life outside of power | |
| I see myself in the faces | |
| Classes, groups and races | |
| Locked out of power | |
| Workers | |
| Blacks | |
| Jews | |
| Children | |
| Ché | |
| Africa | |
| Cuba | |
| And I hear myself in their music |
| It' s always raining in here | |
| Each time I walk thro' these doors | |
| Expensive suits and cheap whores | |
| And I' m always sorry | |
| Money flows real fast | |
| Though I' m not supposed to touch | |
| But they always say how much | |
| They love my music | |
| No matter what I wear | |
| It' s always freezing cold | |
| And their teeth are made of sharpened gold | |
| Tho' their smiles are Polished white | |
| Lives turn into units | |
| In this building built with fear | |
| They breathe contempt in here | |
| And they call it the record business | |
| Justice day will come | |
| And this steel will turn to rust | |
| And this concrete turn to dust | |
| And I won' t be sorry | |
| My life outside of power | |
| I see myself in the faces | |
| Classes, groups and races | |
| Locked out of power | |
| Workers | |
| Blacks | |
| Jews | |
| Children | |
| Che | |
| Africa | |
| Cuba | |
| And I hear myself in their music |
| It' s always raining in here | |
| Each time I walk thro' these doors | |
| Expensive suits and cheap whores | |
| And I' m always sorry | |
| Money flows real fast | |
| Though I' m not supposed to touch | |
| But they always say how much | |
| They love my music | |
| No matter what I wear | |
| It' s always freezing cold | |
| And their teeth are made of sharpened gold | |
| Tho' their smiles are Polished white | |
| Lives turn into units | |
| In this building built with fear | |
| They breathe contempt in here | |
| And they call it the record business | |
| Justice day will come | |
| And this steel will turn to rust | |
| And this concrete turn to dust | |
| And I won' t be sorry | |
| My life outside of power | |
| I see myself in the faces | |
| Classes, groups and races | |
| Locked out of power | |
| Workers | |
| Blacks | |
| Jews | |
| Children | |
| Ché | |
| Africa | |
| Cuba | |
| And I hear myself in their music |
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