Dogs Of L.A.

The canyon air is like a breath of fresh L.A.
I was a Star Trek crew member, with my Beatle boots and my Super-8
And I raced you to the top, the camera gets a stuttered shot
Of me approaching a painted shrine
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.
The sawed-off tree trunks stand among the living palms
You were beaming as I focused in, and I panned along
And I raced you to the top, kicking snakes up from dusty rocks
Young Abe Vigoda plays Frankenstein
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.