Testo: Richard Marx. Rush Street. Streets Of Pain.

She's still another party blonde who had it all her way,
Now, just another hanger on with a faded resume.
He's gonna be a leading man in the gary cooper mold,
Now, working at a pretzel stand but it's him that's getting sold.
Big dreamer gonna take the town but she's running out of time,
Still singing at a sleazy lounge to a house of drooling swine.
Self satisfied narcissist with a body like a god,
He's thinking that's all there is but 'i don't want that job'.
Streets of pain, they don't hear the crying...
...never felt the tears...they just keep on lying.
Get it through your head 'cause some things never change.
Won't it finally be obvious that there's very little chance?
Can't they see it's a greyhound bus and not their handsome prince?
Isn't anybody satisfied with the average girl next door?
Does she have to be glamorized so the world will love her more...?
...sinking like a rock in a river...never felt so cold...
...lower than a snake can slither,
Not to mention all the stories never told.
Pretty girl becomes a socialite standing in somebody else's light.
Anything can happen late at night,
In the morning she'll be out of sight.
Made a million on a lucky streak, threw it all away as foolishly,
One of many comic tragedies, what else can there be?
So you better get on the road to the desolation station,
And you better bring all you own, it's a permanent vacation.
We're waiting here with open arms but it isn't what it seems.
Just looking for the boulevard on the trail of broken dreams...