| The canyon air is like a breath of fresh L.A.
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| I was a Star Trek crew member, with my Beatle boots and my Super-8
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| And I raced you to the top, the camera gets a stuttered shot
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| Of me approaching a painted shrine
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| I kissed the Buddah and made him cry
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| I kissed the Buddah and made him cry
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| Georgie, I’m your friend
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| And the shit-brown reservoir is a testament to the dogs of L.A.
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| They hold the place like the mafia, and say, Run me around again.
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| The sawed-off tree trunks stand among the living palms
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| You were beaming as I focused in, and I panned along
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| And I raced you to the top, kicking snakes up from dusty rocks
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| Young Abe Vigoda plays Frankenstein
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| I kissed the Buddah and made him cry
|
| I kissed the Buddah and made him cry
|
| Georgie, I’m your friend
|
| And the shit-brown reservoir is a testament to the dogs of L.A.
|
| They hold the place like the mafia, and say, Run me around again,
|
| I wanna go again.
|
| The shit-brown reservoir is a testament to the dogs of L.A.
|
| They hold the place like the mafia, and say, Run me around again. |