(Champeaux and Cowherd)
California here I come, California here I go
New York City is calling me home, I'm running cross country
back to the show. It's bumper to bumper from L.A. to L.A.
The road to Flagstaff has nothing to say. The canyon's grand, just tired of being a hole,
The Phoenix sun never shined so cold...
The painted desert she really shows her age and New Mexico got old around Santa Fe.
So I took my stand by the Alamo, a last waltz through Texas on my way home.
But I should have known that the highway would turn you to stone but at Little Rock you met me halfway.
You're all tangled up in blue skies and hills of gold, the asphalt felt like headache grey.
Then the Tennessee stars they rolled out like a storm, but I guess we got to Memphis too late.
All the kings horses there and all the king's men just stood in the rain by the Graceland gates.
Hoping for a sign.looking up to the sky, maybe waiting for the Colonel to speak.
But there's a secret silence down in the Jungle Room tonight, all is quiet on the Lisa Marie.
California here I go. The city is calling me home. California here I come, California here I go. The city is calling me home. New York City I'm home....