| L.A., pick up the phone
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| I need to talk to you
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| Stop sleeping with my new friends
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| And all the old ones too
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| Remember when we met?
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| I thought you thought I was boring
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| Then you called me on the phone
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| To arrange my birthday party
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| Well this ain’t a scripted movie
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| I don’t drive a fancy car
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| Those flashing lights don’t mean a thing to me
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| Goodbye, LA
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| Da da da da da da da
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| You showed me around the house
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| You took me by the wrist
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| Introduced me to your pals
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| The scientologists
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| We cut the cake and sang
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| And I tried to fake a smile
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| And I drank and drank and drank
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| Because I felt so out of style
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| Well this ain’t my birthday party
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| No, It’s just a fashion show
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| Yeah this is something it just isn’t me
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| So long, L. A
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| Da da da da da da da
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| So long, L. A
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| Da da da da da da da
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| I do miss Hollywood
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| Enjoy the hazy city
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| I’m sure you’re feeling good
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| But soon enough you’ll miss me
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| I ain’t got too much money
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| And nobody knows my name
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| But here is something I just have to say:
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| Fuck you, L. A |