All the gold in California is in a bank in the middle of Beverly Hills In somebody else's name, so if you're dreaming about California It don't matter
The doors to the mission open at seven And the soup will be ready about nine Right now it's six-thirty, they're ragged and dirty They're standin' and
Love is just a game that everybody plays And when the game is over not everybody pays Some play the game to lose, some play the game to win The winners
I wandered far away from the place Where I was born and raised I suffered through the Oklahoma dry lands And through New York City's cold and rainy days
What will we do now? You tell me The hourglass is all out of sand How could love slip through our fingers And leave nothin' but time on our hands? And
She's a broken lady, waiting to be mended Like a potter would mend a broken vase A broken lady, waiting to be mended And have what's left of the pieces
She used to sing on Sunday (Oh Victory And Jesus) In her robe of spotless white Mama smiling on the third row 'Cause she knew her baby?d sing it right
