THE STREETS OF L.A.Jack Tempchin, Bobby WhitlockOn 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 Everyday 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. |