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The Decemberists - Los Angeles, I'm Yours lyrics
There is a city by the sea A gentle company I don't suppose you want to And as it tells its sorry tale In harrowing detail Its hollowness will haunt you Its streets and boulevards Orphans and oligarchs it hears A plaintive melody Truncated symphony An ocean's garbled vomit on the shore, Los Angeles, I'm yours Oh ladies, pleasant and demure Sallow-cheeked and sure I can see your undies And all the boys you drag about An empty fellow found From Saturdays to Mondays You hill and valley crowd Hanging your trousers down at heel This is the realest thing As ancient choirs sing A dozen blushing cherubs wheel above Los Angeles I love Oh what a rush of ripe élan Languor on divans Dalliant and dainty But oh, the smell of burnt cocaine The dolor and decay It only makes me cranky Oh great calamity, Ditch of iniquity and tears How I abhor this place Its sweet and bitter taste Has left me wretched, retching on all fours Los Angeles, I'm yours |
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