little pieces of herself are falling away discarded on the pavement more every day she’s losing sight now oh to run or to remain at the risk of becoming more litter in LA won’t you save me? and take me away to a painting of what my life’s supposed to be in hell-a LA in slave LA, we’re all to blame LA in flake LA is not in my name grooves in her halo waiting to be placed on the horns necessary for them to remember her face every night spent slaving away makes pieces of her soul erase won’t you save me? and take me away to a painting of what my life’s supposed to be where it’s raining on those perfect 72 days wash away the shame and all of the litter in hell-a LA in slave LA, we’re all to blame LA in flake LA is not in my name