Oh L.A. pick up the phone I need to talk to you Stop sleeping with my new friends, And all the old ones too Remember when we met, I thought you thought I was boring You called me on the phone, to arrange my birthday party Well this anger … I don’t drive a fancy car Those flashing lights don’t mean a thing to me Goodbye L.A. You showed me around the house You took me by the wrist You introduced me to your pals, the scientologists We cut the cake inside, Then I tried to fake a smile And I drank, and drank, and drank, cause I felt so out of style You sang my birthday ṗarty Oh it’s just a fashion show Yeah this is something, it just isn’t me So long L.A. Well I do miss all you brought The joy, the haze, the stay I’m sure you’ll feel it to But soon enough you’ll miss me but I ain’t got so much money Nobody knows my name, but here is something I just have to say F*ck you L.A.