Under the Boardwalk

Oh, when the sun beats down and melts the tar up on the roof
And the streets get so hot you wish your tired feet were fireproof
Under the boardwalk, down by the sea
On a blanket with my baby - that's where I'll be.

But when it's hot outside and the smog hangs in the air
And the five local bums ask for change from folks who just don't care
On Franklin and Highland in Hollywood
Broke, single, in a cheap apartment, I have no food.