| I wanna die in Los Angeles, under an overpass
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| A walking blackout fading, my last breath gasped
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| I wanna die in Los Angeles, where people Ask the Dust
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| More sad than scandalous, and sweating rust, and I know.
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| It all feels like a cheap parade, in the sun I’m gonna beg for rain,
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| if I’m (Oh I)
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| In the middle we got no way out, at the end was it all about some lie?
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| I wanna die, die, die in Los Angeles!
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| I wanna die in Los Angeles, under a blood orange sun
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| In a fugue state hated, by the ones I love
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| And when I die in Los Angeles, they’re gonna say they knew
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| Like «he was almost decent, but I’m glad he’s through», and I know.
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| It all feels like a cheap parade, in the sun I’m gonna beg for rain,
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| if I’m (Oh I)
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| In the middle we got no way out, at the end was it all about some lie?
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| I wanna die, die, die in Los Angeles!
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| Die! |
| Die in Los Angeles!
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| Die! |
| Die in Los Angeles!
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| Die! |
| Die in Los Angeles!
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| Die! |
| Die in Los Angeles! |