There's 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 speaks in boulevards
Or fencing; all the guards are here
A plaintive melody
Truncated symphony
An ocean's gargled vomit on the shore

Los Angeles I'm yours

Old ladies pleasant and demure
Shallow sink and sure
I can see your undies
And all the boys you drag about
And empty fellow found
From Saturdays to Mondays
You healing valley crowd
Hanging your trousers down at here
This is the realest thing
As ancient choirs sing
a dozen blushing cherobs wheel about

Los Angeles, I love

Oh what a rush of ride with them
Langer on devens
Dallyiant and daisy
But oh the smell of burnt cocaine
The dollar and decay
It only makes me cranky

A great calamity
Did shove iniquity 'tis here
How I adore 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


-- The Decemberists, "Los Angeles, I'm Yours"
(I need to hear this again to further correct the lyrics...)