L.

A.’s fine, the sun shines most the time,

and the feel in’ is lay back.

(F)Palm trees grow, and rents are low.

But you know I keep think in’ ’bout

mak in’ my way back.

Well, I’m New York Cit y born and raised, but now a days, I’m lost be tween two (Eb)shores.

(F)L.

A.’s fine, but it ain’t home.

(F7)New York’s home, but it ain’t mine no (Bb)more.

“I am,” I (Bb)said

to no one there.

And no one heard at all, not (Eb)e (Dm)ven (Cm)the (Bb)chair.

“I am,” I cried.

“I am,” said I.

And I am lost, and I can’t e (Dm)ven (Cm)say (Bb)why,

leav in’ me lone ly still.

Did you ev er read a bout a frog who dreamed of be in’ a king

and then be came one?

Well, ex (F)cept for the names and a few oth er chang es, if you talk a bout me,

the sto ry’s the same one.

But I got an emp ti ness deep in side.

And I’ve tried, but it won’t let me (Eb)go.

And (F)I’m not a man who likes to swear, but (F7)I’ve nev er cared for the sound of be in’ a (Bb)lone.

“I am,” I