The plastic beaches, there, on concrete beaches, there, you see the leeches, there, you see
the leeches, there, there's some marshmallow, there, it's also shallow, there, in dead Los
Angeles, in dead Los Angeles, they trash the pasta, don't, it's got his glasses on, he's
never seen the *** from the La Brea Mitz, the lunar base cap, there, with burning midnight
lamp, they call it frisbee lamp, it's just a Disney lamp, android Americans live in the
ruins, there, in dead Los Angeles, in dead Los Angeles, they trash the pasta, don't,
it's got his glasses on, he's never seen the *** from the La Brea Mitz, from the La Brea
Mitz, from the La Brea Mitz, from the La Brea Mitz, from the La Brea Mitz, from the La
Brea Mitz
They get the trammers that have been given Babylon
Plenty of companies, such lonely company
I hear a symphony of lonely timpanis
From dead Los Angeles, from dead Los Angeles
The dredged up mastodon who's got his glasses on
He's never seen the *** from the La Brea Mitz
The La Brea Mitz