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   Sallow cheek'd and sure   (I can see your undies)   And all the boys you drag about   An empty, fallow found   From Saturdays to Mondays.      You hill and valley crowd   Hanging your trousers down at love.   This is the realest thing   As anchient choirs sing   A dozen blushing cherubs wheel about   Los Angeles, my love      O, what a rush of ripe elan!   Languor on divans   Dalliance and dainty!      But oh the smell of burnt cocaine,   The dollar and decay   It only makes me cranky.      O, great calamity   Dish of inequity and tears   How I abhor this place!   Its sweet and bitter taste   Has left me wreched, retching on all fours   Los Angeles, I'm yours.      Los Angeles, I'm yours.      Los Angeles, I'm yours.