And the man is dropping hooks into the crowd
He aims to sell you heaven in a can
And the ghost who named Los Angeles is laughing out loud
What came from desert will soon return to sand
Baby I’m gone
Baby I’m gone
A world gets weary and times get tough
The rich get richer and the rest get fffffffffffff
You know I ain’t no hippie but I’m sure I’ve had enough
Oh ooh ooh my soul