When I was homeless in NYC, I saw the neon lights on Broadway, but looking at them just gave me the blues.
You may have misunderstood, I won’t admit to the experience. 
I’ve been to San Francisco a number of times, but each time I’ve managed to bring my heart back with me.
Yeah, but did you wear a flower in your hair?
I’ve gone down to South Park and had myself a time.
Think we stayed there a whole five minutes - the TV show makes the city look far larger than it really is. When I was there, it was pretty much a wide spot on the road - looks like they’ve turned the place into a museum now.
I take it you woke up in the city that never sleeps a few times, eh?
I was led through the streets of London and saw something that made me change my mind.*
I have spent one night in Bangkok.**
I do not, however, wish I was in Carrickfergus.
*It was a peepshow, and changed my mind about the erotic potential of such a show.
**Several times.
I’ve gotten my kicks on Route 66 more times than I can count.
Goin’ to the CHA-pel and we’re gonna get MAR-ried played on the radio the day my first husband and I went – you know. Hell, Chapel of Love wasn’t even an oldie in 1963.
My daughter and I sang Kansas City on the way to Kansas City but we didn’t come back with any crazy little wimmen, not even one.
The song lies, dammit. There is no such thing as a “warm San Franciscan night.”
I’m from Dodge, so I feel your pain - and your cliche!
My family did once take a road trip 'cross the Prairies, the lakes to Ontario’s towers, from the sound of Mount Royal’s chimes out to the Maritimes. (We did not, however, attempt to “stand on the sand on the Grand Banks of Newfoundland.” That would be unwise.)
And on another time, through the night behind the wheel, the mileage ticking west, we raced the roaring Fraser to the sea, to find there but the road back home again. (We went on a lot of road trips when I was a kid; living in Winnipeg will do that to you.)
Well, I did “come on real soon down to sunny south Kensington”…California. Others beat me to the dock of the bay, and (fictitious) warm San Francisco night.
I don’t care what anyone else says, it Rains in Indianapolis in the summertime and has done so all my life.
Also little green apples give me the poops.
I’ve also left for a while and come “Back Home Again in Indiana”
“Over the river and through the woods to Grandmother’s house” I’ve gone.
Driving on a trip to California, I assured my passenger that I really did know the way to San Jose.
I’ve been from Phoenix, Arizona all the way to Tacoma. Plus northern California (where the girls are warm) and L.A. too. On a Greyhound bus, though–not a big ol’ jet airliner. OK, I know, different Steve Miller song.
I once shot a man in Reno…
And as a matter of fact, when I hear that whistle blowin’, I do hang my head and cry.
Hey, I’ve gone down to South Park too. Used to be a great Mexican restaurant there. Was worth having a time there.
I looked in vain for a cake when I was at MacArthur Park during a light drizzle, but no dice.
I’ve touched myself. Many times, in fact.