From "Bob Malone" (1998)

From “Bob Malone” (1998)

By Bob Malone

Stage three, can’t breathe, can’t see
Ten lanes of concrete still can’t compete
With the trucks and the busses
And the movie stars and executives
Limos and Lexuses
Slave all day just to live in a box
That looks like every other box on the block
Eighteen suburbs in search of a city
Seven million souls in a town without pity

Now that I’m here I don’t know why I came
But I know enough to know that it’s time to go
And I got to go today

Goodbye L.A.
I know you won’t miss my face
Goodbye L.A.
I’ll just be one less person looking for a parking space
Goodbye L.A.
Well I got to get away, got to get away from here

Attitude overload, you think this town couldn’t hold
Another wannabe with a photo and a fake biography
Talent won’t help if someone else looks better
Where spandex and leather means you got your shit together
Suckin’ up to some Hollywood ace
With the vanity plates and a silicone date
He says: “Call my machine but not me
We’ll meet next week at that place down the street

When I’m there they treat me with respect
Cuz every waiter is a singer-model-dancer-actor
That really wants to direct


I’m afraid that one day I’m gonna find myself holdin’ a gun
Cuz if I don’t make my break for a less crowded place
I think I’m gonna kill someone


© 1992 Born Too Late Music (SESAC)