Los Angeles, I'm yours
A great calamity, ditch of inequity it's here
It streets and boulevards, orphans and oligarchs are here
You hill and valley crowd, hanging your trousers down at here
A plaintive melody, truncated symphony
An ocean's garbled vomit on the shore
From Saturdays to Mondays
Dallyiant and dainty
It only makes me cranky
Los Angeles, I'm yours
Has left me wretched retching on all fours
And as it tells its sorry tale in harrowing detail
Los Angeles, I'm yours
I can see your undies
And all the boys you drag about an empty fellow found
How I abhor this place, its sweet and bitter taste
This is the realest thing, as ancient choirs sing
A dozen blushing cherubs wheel about
Its hollowness will haunt you
Old ladies pleasant and demure, sallow cheeked and sure
Los Angeles, my love
But oh, the smell of burnt cocaine, the dollor and decay
Oh, what a rush of ripe elan, languor on divans
