Why You'd Want to Live Here

I'm in Los Angeles today: it smells like an airport runway. Jet fuel stenches in the cabin and lights flickering at random.

I'm in Los Angeles today: garbage cans comprise the medians of freeways always creaping even when the population's sleeping.

And I can't see why you'd want to live here.

I'm in Los Angeles today: asked a gas station employee if he ever had trouble breathing and he said "it varies from season to season, kid."

It's where our best are on display: motion picture actors' houses maps are never ever current so save your film and $15.

And I can't see why you'd want to live here.
Billboards reach past the tallest buildings,
"We are not perfect but we sure try."
As UV rays "degradate" our youth with time.

The vessel keeps pumping us through this entropic place in the belly of the beast that is Californ-i-a, I drank from a faucet and I kept my receipts for when the weigh me on my way out (here nothing is free).
The greyhounds keep coming dumping locusts into the street until the gutters overflow and Los Angeles thinks, "I might explode someday soon."

It's a lovely summer's day and I can almost see a skyline through a thickening shroud of egos. (is this the city of angels or demons?)
Here the names are what remain: stars encapsulate the gold lame and they need constant cleaning for when the tourists begin salivating.

You can't swim in a town this shallow - you will most assuredly drown tomorrow.