Album: Crooked Rain, Crooked Rain: L.A.’s Desert Origins
Run, run to the east, confession trash
We don't need your thrills or your call-book cash
Let just, nature's got plans to keep you up there
Swamps, fiddles that whine about the mayor
Arcades are divine, they've got conditioned air
Fan-tail, backwash and factory rules will stay up here
Hands off of the bayou
(Drop the bomb)
Heels, stay in your state, it's a new south trap
What, what is the bait? You silly aqua-cat
War, college exams, you know I learned a lot
About the fiction ya tossed and the father's fat and lost!
Your father's fat and lost
Your chivalry is lost
Your chivalry in shame
Hands off of the bayou
(Drop the bomb)