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The Decemberists
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Los Angeles, I'm Yours
Lyricist:Colin Patrick Meloy
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
It streets and boulevards, orphans and oligarchs are here A plaintive melody, truncated symphony An ocean's garbled vomit on the shore Los Angeles, I'm yours
Old 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 here Find more lyrics at ※ Mojim.com This is the realest thing, as ancient choirs sing A dozen blushing cherubs wheel about Los Angeles, my love
Oh, what a rush of ripe elan, languor on divans Dallyiant and dainty But oh, the smell of burnt cocaine, the dollor and decay It only makes me cranky
A great calamity, ditch of inequity it's here How I abhor this place, its sweet and bitter taste Has left me wretched retching on all fours Los Angeles, I'm yours Los Angeles, I'm yours Los Angeles, I'm yours
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