| Well, Jimmy left New York for California
|
| And the east river winds blew him on his way
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| Past the cracked concrete, through the sky he scraped
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| Said, «If you live like a ghost, you don’t leave no trace»
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| He stood on the edge of the big black ocean
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| If you lean too close, you can fall right in
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| And a man he met said that California was sinking
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| That they were standing on the edge of the earth
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| It may be hard, hard to believe
|
| It may be hard, hard to believe
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| Before it all falls in, I wanna make my mark
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| Before I go swimming with the Great White Sharks
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| I wanna walk this land with a pick and a pan
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| I don’t believe the gold rush is over
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| The man said, «Boy you got some big ideas
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| You better make some room for them raging seas
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| 'Cause soon, you’ll have salt water up to your ears
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| You’ll take one last breath and go under
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| It may be hard, hard to believe
|
| It may be hard, hard to believe
|
| It may be hard
|
| Hard to believe
|
| He wanted to find out how much he was worth
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| He wanted to leave a scar on the face of the Earth
|
| But the tricks of the trade made a fool out of him
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| Once a man eats well, he gets hungry again
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| And it’s a hell of a day when you realize
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| That the people you despise are keeping you alive
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| And you search down your soul
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| But you don’t have the guts
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| To look into that mirror and admit that you’re fucked
|
| It may be hard, hard to believe
|
| It may be hard, hard to believe
|
| It may be hard
|
| Hard to believe
|
| Hard to believe
|
| Hard to believe |