Los Angeles, I'm Yours Lyrics - Her Majesty - Decemberists

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 

Its 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 

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O ladies pleasant and demure 

Sallow-cheeked and sure 

I can see your undies 

And all the boys you drag about 

An empty fallow fount 

From Saturdays to Mondays 

You hill and valley crowd 

Hanging your trousers down at heel 

This is the realest thing 

As ancient choirs sing 

A dozen blushing cherubs wheel above 

Los Angeles, my love 

Oh, what a rush of ripe élan 

Languor on divans 

Dalliant and dainty 

But oh, the smell of burnt cocaine 

The dolor and decay 

It only makes me cranky 

Photos 

O great calamity 

Ditch of iniquity and tears 

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