Los Angeles, I'm Yours
The Decemberists
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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 And here's a plaintive melody A truncated symphony. An ocean's garbled vomit on the shore: Los Angeles, I'm yours O ladies, pleasant and demure Hollow-cheek'd and sure I can see your undies) And all the boys you drag about On empty, fallow fount From Saturdays to Mondays. You bridge and tunnel crowd Hanging your trousers down at heel. This is the realest thing As ancient choirs sing A rushing rabble revels from above Los Angeles, my love. O what a rush of ripe elan! Languor on divans Dalliant and dainty! But the smell of burnt cocaine, The dolor and the drain It only makes me cranky O great calamity, Den of iniquity and tears How I abhor this place Its sweet and bitter taste Has left me wretched, wretching on all fours Los Angeles, I'm yours
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"Los Angeles, I'm Yours Lyrics." Lyrics.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 25 Apr. 2024. <https://www.lyrics.com/lyric/7404291/The+Decemberists/Los+Angeles%2C+I%27m+Yours>.
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