If it's true
Oh, what they say
That good things come to those who wait
Well then how exactly do you explain
All those poor, dumb bastards in LA

They came for stardom
They came for fame
Now they've got holes inside their brains
From freebasing cocaine
All those poor dumb, bastards in LA

They're ghosts of robots
Complacent pawns
And all the girls have implants
And they're all blonde
There are no sunsets, there are no dawns
In that sad, sad place they call LA

(Take it away, Nick. Do a whistle solo!)

[whistling]

They came for stardom
They came for fame
And they've got holes in their brains
From freebasing cocaine
Those poor, dumb bastards in LA
Those poor, dumb bastards in LA
In that sad, sucky, shithole they call LA
[whistling]

(I hope that whistle solo picked up.)