Mom called the morning of the latest plane,
Said why don't you just come home safe
It's quiet here, you won't pay no rent
You're so hungry it'll kill you dead.
And later in the sway of the subway car
I looked at the faces that made it this far
Folks with babies and jobs and cars
Thinking thoughts 'bout where they are
And I think that I can't go home yet

Been in New York about seven months
And I've seen a life worth of crazy stuff
Like things that mattered on September 10
And things that still matter like paying the rent
The things you put up with, the things you lack
Yesterday lunch was saltine crackers
Maybe tonight I'll start to pack,
Cuz what is New York but a cinematic dream
Somewhere you swore to yourself you'd be
When you finally made enough of yourself
Playing on stage in perfect health
And suddenly you're eating saltine crackers
And for some reason saying, I won't go home yet.

Columbus Circle, 'bout 1:30 dark
I'm thinking of sleeping in Central Park
Cuz then I'd have a story to tell
And I'd seem tough, tough as hell
Got a dollar, not enough for the train
Cab to Brooklyn's 20 dollars away
What do you do, find pockets to pick?
Find a man, turn a trick?
It was never supposed to be like this
And I tear my heart out, I cry my eyes out
I'm always alone when I turn the lights out
But I am not going home yet

Back in the '60s folksingers survived
Cuz the rent in the village didn't eat them alive
And they had that war to sing about
Bras to burn, picketing crowds.
Now everyone has got a cause,
They say Fuck the Man, or Fuck my Boss
Don't Eat Animals, Don't Shoot Guns,
Don't Smoke Dope, and Don't Have Fun
Here in America Life is War,
But what the hell are they fighting for?
Ain't it a good cause to get outa debt
Or holy god, try to pay my rent?
Write a song, make a friend,
Figure shit out again and again,
And say I am not going home yet

I had a lot to lose and I lost it all
But I'm still kickin, kickin tall
Every step's a football cheer
I can't be beat, not now, not here!
Midtown Broadway it's almost 2
The tuxedoes are spilling out of ballrooms
The same old show of wallets and doom.
I don't think I wanna live like you:
Rollin in cash, drippin' yoga sweat
Having birthday parties for all my pets
Won another jet in a poker bet
Should I buy the Yankees or buy the Mets?
I should send my broker a little red corvette
And thank him for everybody else's debt
Yes, all the little bugs in that very sticky web
Hey, I do my part, by eating crackers,
and by not going home yet.

Mom called the morning of the latest plane
Said why don't you just come home safe
It's quiet here, you won't pay no rent
You're so hungry it'll kill you dead
But I'm in Brooklyn and I got my guitar
I look for work on the subway car
$10 if you busk in Central Park--
in the summer of course, before your fingers freeze,
before your face peels off and your lips crack and bleed
God, ain't New York a glamorous dream?
And ain't life here about glamour and ease?
I could hop a train, go where my friends are at
But I always thought that I was stronger than that
You get to New York to make something of yourself
And then you're just like someone else
A girl and her guitar, who sings about where she stands
Not about hearts bleeding or hearts holding hands
She will be compared to Ani DiFranco
Even if she's not going home
Especially if she's not goin home
If she's not going home yet

Dear Mom, believe me, hey,
I would love to be home safe,
And I cry out my eyes and I tear out my heart
cuz I'm so far away.
But in the subway I understood
it takes pain to get something good
it takes a lot of hard work to get anything good
it takes a lot of bullshit to get anything good
and you really gotta want it if you want anything good.
New York's a better city now, for the worst of reasons
And the only thing we can count on is the freezing blazing seasons
(I can say that cuz California doesn't have any seasons)
Dear Mom I miss you, I miss Dad, I miss my friends,
But I am not going home yet.
I am not going home yet.
I am not going home yet.