| All you folks back home
|
| I’ll never tell you this
|
| You’re not supposed to know
|
| Where your daughter is
|
| There are ways of life
|
| You never understood
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| It’s right here
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| Downtown Hollywood
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| It’s afternoon on Sunset Boulevard
|
| I’ve got a stolen moment trying hard
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| To write a kind of Christmas card
|
| But I am burning cut again
|
| Tonight there is fever in my veins
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| Mama, dear
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| All the love you gave
|
| I guess there’s really nothing,
|
| Nothing much to save
|
| See this place,
|
| Is as dirty as I feel myself
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| There are still some riches
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| At the Roosevelt
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| That evening prayer, those memories
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| In my little bedroon, mama, on my knees,
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| That’s where I’m at —
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| Down in Los-Angeles
|
| And I am burning out again
|
| And I must rise above the shame
|
| Tonight there is fever in my veins…
|
| Oh, just think of the girl I used to be
|
| You were my age once, mama, Twenty-three
|
| I can still hear some of the songs you used to play
|
| From that summer of love in '68
|
| Seems it’s turned into a winter of hate
|
| And I am burning out again… |