In Santa Monica, In the winter time, The lazy streets so undemanding, I walk into the crowd. In Santa Monica, You get your coffee from, The coolest places on the promenade, Where people dress just so. Beauty so unavoidable, Everywhere you turn it's there, I sit and wonder what am I doing here? But on the telephone line, I am anyone, I am anything I want to be, I could be a super model or Norman Mailer, And you wouldn't know the difference, Or would you? In Santa Monica, All the people got, Modern names like Jake or Mandy, And modern bodies too. In Santa Monica, On the boulevard, You'll have to dodge those in-line skaters, Or they'll knock you down. I never felt so lonely, Never felt so out of place, I never wanted something more than this. But on the telephone line, I am anyone, I am anything I want to be, I could be a super model or Norman Mailer, And you wouldn't know the difference. On the telephone line, I am any height, I am any age I want to be, I could be a caped crusader, Or space invader, And you wouldn't know the difference, Or would you? Or would you...? But on the telephone line, I am anyone, I am anything I want to be, I could be a super model or Norman Mailer, And you wouldn't know the difference. On the telephone line, I am any height, I am any age I want to be, I could be a caped crusader, Or space invader, And you wouldn't know the difference, Or would you? |