You say you like New York better than L.A. I believe that you like looking like a Ramone And I would rather kiss a Beach Boy
Feel the sand beneath my toes And feel the sun burn up my nose I'll give you all of my black clothes Just light your smoke and watch me go
And maybe then you'll see
That this time, this time, next year, next year This time, this time, next year, next year
'Cause I'm so sick of dreary winters And mornings spent in subway stations More and more with every day I want the lifestyle of the rich and famous While you prefer to remain nameless But that's you, hey, and this is me I'm gonna live the fantasy
And maybe then you ll see
That this time, this time, next year, next year This time, this time, next year, next year This time, next year, I won't, be here
You say you like New York better than L.A. I believe that you like looking like a Ramone When I would rather kiss a Beach Boy
And maybe then you'll see
And maybe then you'll see
That this time, this time, next year, next year This time, this time, next year, next year This time, next year, I won't, be here This time, this time, next year, next year This time, this time, next year, next year This time, next year, I won't, be here
And maybe then you'll see...