Exits to freeways twisted like knots on the fingers
Jewels cleaving skin between breasts

Your Cadillac breathes four hundred horses over blue lines
You are going to Reseda to make love to a model from Ohio whose real name you don't know
You spin like the Cadillac was overturning down a cliff on television
And the radio is on
And the radio man is speaking
And the radio man says women were a curse
So men built Paramount Studios
And men built Columbia Studios
And men built Los Angeles

It is 5 A.M., and you are listening to Los Angeles
It is 5 A.M., and you are listening to Los Angeles

And the radio man says, "It is a beautiful night out there"
And the radio man says, "Rock 'n' roll lives"
And the radio man says, "It is a beautiful night out there in Los Angeles"
You live in Los Angeles, and you are going to Reseda
We are all in some way or another going to Reseda someday to die
And the radio man laughs because the radio man fucks a model, too

Gone savage for teenagers with automatic weapons and boundless love
Gone savage for teenagers who are aesthetically pleasing, in other words, fly
Los Angeles beckons the teenagers to come to her on buses
Los Angeles loves love
It is 5 A.M., and you are listening to Los Angeles
It is 5 A.M., and you are listening to Los Angeles

I am going to Los Angeles to build a screenplay about lovers who murder each other
I am going to Los Angeles to see my own name on a screen, five feet long and luminous
As the radio man says, "It is 5 A.M., and the sun has charred the other side of the world and come back to us
And painted the smoke over our heads an imperial violet"

It is 5 A.M., and you are listening to Los Angeles
It is 5 A.M., and you are listening to Los Angeles

You are listening
You are listening
You are listening
You are listening
You are listening
You are listening
You are listening
You are listening
You are listening
You are listening
You are listening
You are listening
You are listening
To Los Angeles