You say you like New York better than L.A.
|
And I just sit there
|
I believe that you like looking like a Ramone
|
And I would rather kiss a Beach Boy
|
|
Feel the sand beneath my toes
|
And feel the sun burn up my nose
|
I'll give you all of my black clothes
|
Just light your smoke and watch me go
|
|
Come come come again?
|
What was that you said?
|
Listen carefully
|
And maybe then you'll see
|
|
That this time, this time, next year, next year
|
I won't be here
|
This time, this time, next year, next year
|
I won't be here
|
|
'Cause I'm so sick of dreary winters
|
And mornings spent in subway stations
|
Going to a job I hate
|
More and more with every day
|
I want the lifestyle of the rich and famous
|
While you prefer to remain nameless
|
But that's you, hey, and this is me
|
I'm gonna live the fantasy
|
|
Come come come again?
|
What was that you said?
|
Listen carefully
|
And maybe then you ll see
|
|
That this time, this time, next year, next year
|
I won't be here
|
This time, this time, next year, next year
|
I won't be here
|
This time, next year, I won't, be here
|
|
You say you like New York better than L.A.
|
And I just sit there
|
I believe that you like looking like a Ramone
|
When I would rather kiss a Beach Boy
|
|
Come come come again?
|
What was that you said?
|
Listen carefully
|
And maybe then you'll see
|
|
Come come come again?
|
What was that you said?
|
Listen carefully
|
And maybe then you'll see
|
|
That this time, this time, next year, next year
|
I won't be here
|
This time, this time, next year, next year
|
I won't be here
|
This time, next year, I won't, be here
|
This time, this time, next year, next year
|
I won't be here
|
This time, this time, next year, next year
|
I won't be here
|
This time, next year, I won't, be here
|
|
Come come come again?
|
What was that you said?
|
Listen carefully
|
And maybe then you'll see...
|
|
-----------------
|
NYLA
|
| The Weekend |
