Exits to freeways twisted like knots on the fingers...
Jewels, cleaving skin between - breasts.
Your Cadillac breathes 400 horses between blue lines.
You are going to Ricida to make love to a model from Ohio
whose real name you don't know.
You spin, like the Cadillac was overturning down a cliff,
on television...
And the radio is on, and the radio man is speaking,
and the radio man says "women were a curse"
So men built Paramount, studios...
and men built Columbia, studios...
and men built, Los Angeles.
It is 5 am, and you are listening, to Los Angeles.
And the radio man says "it is a beautiful night out there"
And the radio man says "Rock and Roll lives!"
And the radio man says it is a beautiful night out there
in Los Angeles.
You live in Los Angeles, and you are going to Ricida
We are all in some way or another going to Ricida
Some day, to die...
And the radio man laughs, because the radio man fucks a model too.
Gone savage, for teenagers with automatic weapons and boundless love.
Gone savage for teenagers who are esthetically pleasing,
in other words "FLY"
Los Angeles beckons the teenagers to come to her on buses.
Los Angeles loves, love...
It is 5 am, and you are listening, to Los Angeles...
I am going to Los Angeles to build a screenplay
about lovers who murder each other.
I am going to Los Angeles to see my own name on a Screen
Five feet long, and luminous.
As the radio man says, "it is 5 am,
and the sun has charred the other side of the world
and come back to us,
and painted the smoke over our heads and imperial Violet!
It is 5 am! And you are listening...to Los Angeles"
You are listening...
You are listening...
To Los Angeles.
