Has left me wretched retching on all fours
Los Angeles, my love
Publisher: OSTEROZHNA! MUSIC
Dallyiant and dainty
Oh, what a rush of ripe elan, languor on divans
But oh, the smell of burnt cocaine, the dollor and decay
And as it tells its sorry tale in harrowing detail
It streets and boulevards, orphans and oligarchs are here
A great calamity, ditch of inequity it's here
Los Angeles, I'm yours
A plaintive melody, truncated symphony
This is the realest thing, as ancient choirs sing
From Saturdays to Mondays
You hill and valley crowd, hanging your trousers down at here
And all the boys you drag about an empty fellow found
Los Angeles, I'm yours
Old ladies pleasant and demure, sallow cheeked and sure
There is a city by the sea, a gentle company
Los Angeles, I'm yours
A dozen blushing cherubs wheel about
Los Angeles, I'm yours
I don't suppose you want to
Its hollowness will haunt you
How I abhor this place, its sweet and bitter taste
It only makes me cranky
An ocean's garbled vomit on the shore
I can see your undies
Songwriter: Colin Patrick Meloy