Well, things were spinnin’ ’round me, and all my thoughts were cloudy,
And I had begun to doubt all the things that were me.
Been in so many places you know I’ve run so many races,
And looked into the empty faces of the people of the night,
And something is just not right. ‘Cause you know…
That I gotta get out of here, I’m so alone;
Don’t you know that I gotta get out of here, ’cause New York’s not my home.
Though all the streets are crowded, there’s something strange about it;
I lived there ’bout a year and I never once felt at home.
I thought I’d make the big time, I learned a lot of lessons awful quick and now I’m
Telling you that they were not the nice kind;
And it’s been so long since I have felt fine. That’s the reason…
That I gotta get out of here, I’m so alone;
Don’t you know that I gotta get out of here, ’cause New York’s not my home.
That’s the reason that I gotta get out of here, I’m so alone;
Don’t you know that I gotta get out of here, ’cause New York’s not my home.
1972 – Jim Croce – Album: You Don’t Mess Around With Jim