| Too much, too late |
| I try hard, I can’t wait |
| To hear you say the words |
| Fade away, are we thinking |
| Of the same thing again |
| If we are we cannot lose it |
| Just cause silence is a sin |
| I’ll scream, you shout |
| Three strikes (and) you’re out |
| Of cash, but that’s ok |
| We don’t need it anyway |
| Down, low down, get down alright |
| We’ve/i've got ourselves a song |
| And we’ll sing it all night |
| In a town called california |
| The air is sweet |
| And a cold glass of coca cola |
| Will keep you on your feet |
| Right (out) here in california |
| The streets are paved with gold |
| I don’t care what they tell ya |
| There’s no cure for growin' old |
| It’s another day |
| Another chance to throw it all away |
| I’ve got an itch |
| To scream and bitch |
| But please don’t ask me to get off |
| My assets are frozen |
| My circuitry’s broke |
| Find myself a laughin' |
| I don’t know any jokes |
| In a town called California |
| The air is sweet |
| And a cold glass of coca cola |
| Will keep you on your feet |
| Right (out) here in California |
| The streets are paved with gold |
| I don’t care what they tell ya |
| There’s no cure for growin' old |
| Right here in California |
| The air is sweet |
| And a cold glass of coca cola |
| Will keep you on your feet |
| Right (out) here in California |
| The streets are paved with gold |
| I don’t care what they tell ya |
| There’s no cure for growin' old |
| Growin' cold, growin' old |