Blog Archive

Thursday, October 21, 2010

Los Angeles or The City of [Broken] Angels

Your city bleeds from a heart as black as my smoldering lungs.
Alone she weeps, she crawls, and babbles in foreign tongues.
Dragging herself with the hopes and dreams of innocent members reeling.
Near death but somehow still breathing, near gangrenous but always still feeling.

So here’s to her. Your city, your bride.
Down your shot and swallow your pride.
Take a drag and pray for life.
Breathe it out and twist the knife.

Truer words were never spoken,
That, in LA, the Angels are broken.

Your city smiles a frown with bulged, bloated lips quivering.
The skintight mask slowly droops, yet her clownish grin is unwavering.
Her fa├žade has been shattered and fixed, brutally ravaged and mended.
The Lady has been destroyed and forgotten far longer than intended.

So here’s to her. Your city, your bride.
Pound your beer and swallow your pride.
Chief your grit and pray for life.
Breathe it out and twist the knife.

Truer words were never spoken,
That, in LA, the Angels are broken.

Your city cries out for help, for love she opens wide and screams.
Throat raw, hemorrhaging unfulfilled potential and hideously, shoddy dreams.
The rest of the world stares and laughs, she’s here for their sick delight.
She hopes that someday the clouds will clear and day will break through the night.

So here’s to her. Your city, your bride.
Finish your fifth and swallow your pride.
Crush your cig and pray for life.
Breathe it out and twist the knife.

Truer words were never spoken,
That, in LA, the Angels are broken.

In LA, the Angels are broken.

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