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Jack Tempchin, Bobby Whitlock

On the streets of L.A.
A kid from Oklahoma sleeps on a bus stop bench
On the streets of L.A.
A runaway wonders where she'll stay when her money's all spent
While limos drive through the heart of town
Big money deals are going down
On the streets of L.A.

On the streets of L.A.
They bring their dreams from home in a brown paper bag on the bus
They look at sidewalk stars
Hoping someday to see their names down there in the dust
They'll lead you down where a man could be killed
Or to a house up in Beverly Hills someday
The streets of L.A.

Long for the lonely
Hard for the hungry
Home for the homeless
The streets of L.A.

I thought someday
That I could go back home and still be the same
But it's not that way
And I'm just like all the rest, drawn into this flame

Everywhere thinks they're passing through
No one sees what they're turning into
Day by day
On the streets of L.A.