Leaving La

A/E D E I was living on the hill, D A/E By the water tower and hiking trails, D E When the big one hit I'd have a seat, D A/E To watch masters abandon their dogs and dogs run free, C#m G#dim7 F#m O baby it's time to leave, E D A/E Take the van and the hearse down to New Orleans, C#m G#dim7 F#m Leave under the gaze of the billboard queens, E D A/E 5 foot chicks with parted lips selling sweatshop jeans. A/E D E These LA phonies and their bullshit bands, D A/E Sound like dollar signs and Amy Grant, D E So reads the pulled quote from my last cover piece, D A/E Entitled "The Oldest Man in Folk Rock Speaks” C#m G#dim7 F#m You can hear it all over the airwaves, E D A/E The manufactured gasp of the final days, C#m G#dim7 F#m Someone should tell them ‘bout the time that they don't have, E D A/E To praise the glorious future and the hopeless past.