I wound up on the wrong side of the tracks again   And it's plain enough to see   That it must've been   The railroad men   That moved them, 'cause I sweat it wasn't me   And I gave away all I owned   Least the things not nice enough to sell   Now I'm drifting down the river heading somewhere fine   As far as I can tell   I thumbed a ride from a DJ, took me   Fifty miles or more the wrong way   I'll be damned   He turned around   Took me back and wasted half his day   He shifted gears, waved good-bye,   And wiped his sweaty brow upon his sleeve   People aren't as bad as the television   Makes them out to be   Lord, Lord we're headed toward   The North star and the Drinking Gourd   Where they're never sad and they're never bored   Perhaps they'll let us stay      All the way to Cardigan   Just to ride the pauper's coach along the bay   Appetite for the nightlife and constabulary end up in the way   You roll the old   Virginia Gold   Son, the good stuff's back from where you came'   And, 'a drifter's just a vagrant's just a bum   Called by any other name'      Southern California's just a party thrown   With no one to surprise   And Hollywood can thank it's lucky stars   That LA is no prize   But every time   I turn to leave   She finds a reason good enough to stay   So I hang my hat one more time, California women   Tend to get their way