California
Stan Rogers
Now it's getting so_ I'm mad_ when someone_ says your name_ 'Cause I've had to say_ good-bye_ to friends_ who couldn't stay away_ And sometimes_ it felt so wro_-ng_ to never_ want_ to lean on_ you-ou_ You may stand_ tall_ but I've got_ two feet__-e-eet_ too_ Now they talk of you_ in bars_ around_ a quiet beer__ Tell their tales_ of mind-gone stones_ where no_ one else_ can hear_ And later_ on_ out_-side_ they say they're_ getting on a pla-ane__ To fly away_ leaving_ you__ again__ Califo-or_-nia_ my friends all_ call you home__ And if you take_ away_ another_ I'll be that much_ more_ alone_ Is it_ my fault_ that my kind_ are always_ drawn_ toward the su-un_ Like a child_ to home_ whenever_ dark_-ness__ comes__ Now in a few more_ years_ I won't_ remem-_ber what it was_ to play_-ay-ay-ay_ The music of old_ friends_ who need_ to live so_ far-ar_ away_ But can I_ once taste_ Northern waters_ then_ forsake them_ for the South_ To feel_ Califor_-nia's ashes_ in_ my mouth___ Califo-or_-nia_ my friends all_ call you home__ And if you take_ away_ another_ I'll be that much_ more_ alone_ Is it_ my fault_ that my kind_ are always_ drawn_ toward the sun_ Like a child_ to home_ whenever_ dark_-ness_ comes_ Oh Califo-or_-nia_ my friends all_ call you home__ And if you take_ away_ another_ I'll be that much_ more_ alone_ Is it_ my fault_ that my kind_ are always_ drawn_ toward the sun_ Like a child_ to home_ whenever_ dark_-ness__ comes__ Like a child_ to home_ whenever_ dark_-ness___ comes___