Friends of friends

I don't wanna go
Down to fourteenth street
In old New York
I'd rather be home
But it's all the same
Crowded bars and planes
New Amsterdam and Old Richmond

I just called, and your girlfriend's coming home

But you've got friends that are new friends
And friends that are old friends
And friends lookin' out

Got a cheap dress on
With a wrinkled sleeve
My hat and glove
My money please
Or we might just go
With a burnt black air
I'd rather be home
My president's there

When I call, you don't pick up anymore

But I've got friends that are new friends
And friends that are old friends
And friends lookin' out

When I call, you don't pick up anymore

But I've got friends that are new friends
And friends that are old friends
And friends lookin' out