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