L.A.

When the sun burns it's not out of revenge
Merely an assertion of dominance
Or maybe definition through omnipresence
This city has its own life in a literal sense
The Industry, the Industry
Talk to me please
You've surely seen the movies of the people on their knees
The imitation of life exacted on a sareen
It's no surprise as Hollywood controls all of the means

Cruising in the afternoon in your rented car
We're taking it past Western on the Boulevard
We're gonna sip our sodas with the posers on Vermont
But I don't give a shit
It's on another plane I'm on
I don't give a shit
It answers why I'm here
Nothing as contrived as culture or career
We're living in the limbo that's become the DMZ
Where voices of the future call the voice of history

Cruising in the afternoon, indulging in the signs
I'm burning every strip mall in places in my mind
The crippling visions
So easy comes the hate
Rice and beans and sour cream are blurring on my plate
Stagger down Pico
Step on every crack
Sweat and smog concoction glues my shirt to my back
7-11s help to keep my mind clear
I have to admit I don't really hate it here