Dewese-James
I'm sick of California
The actors and the lawyers
And all the pretty people I meet
They give me the creeps, I'm through.
My spark it has been swallowed
And the business is so shallow
Making music is my rock and roll dream
But my voice it won't sing out here.
They tell you what you wanna hear
You'll make the album of the year
You're gonna be the next big thing
Until another fresh face comes along and sweeps them off their feet.
I'm moving out to Boston
To practice yoga on the common
And all the old alternative stars
They'd hang out in bars with me.
Or maybe I could move to Portland
Play guitar and tend a garden
I could grow a beard, start a zine
Ride my bike on the scene out there.
They'll tell you what you wanna hear
You'll make the album of the year
You're gonna be the next big thing
Until another fresh face comes along and sweeps them off their feet.
I'm sick of California
I'm sick of California
I'm sick of California
I'm sick of California.