Sunday, April 18, 2021

Leaving LA by Tim Minchin

Double click to enlarge.

Leaving LA 
by Tim Minchin and Tee Ken Ng

Check the locks and leave the keys
Mouldy bath masked with Febreze
Something's dead behind the refrigerator
Some poor fuck will deal with it later

I've spent the last ten weeks
Squeezing out the sponge of friendships plugging leaks
I've talked until there's no more to say
I'm going away

I'm leaving LA
I'm leaving LA
And the tourists say

Please give me the direction to the Hollywood sing
I've always dreamt of coming here to see the Hollywood sing
But on their way back down we'll ask did you have a good time
They'll say it's just some fucking letters on a hill

I wander through the Bronson Caves
One more OK coffee at the Oaks Gourmet
I'll watch the players at the UCB
Trying to improvise their way out of ennui

Walking trails in the creeping dark
Up to the observatory in Griffith Park
There's too much light for stars anyway
I'm getting out of this place

I'm leaving LA
I'm leaving LA

Hey
And the studio executives who never made a thing
Blaming others for their failures taking credit for their wins
Wiping the blood of dumb artists from their chins singing
Kid you oughtn't take it personally

On Hollywood and Vine a dime-store Spiderman
Shouting at a stoned Emma Stone dressed a la La La Land
And in the distance in both its glorious dimensions
The sign projects its shadow on the hill

Rushing by machine-gunned cops at LAX
Malfunctioning departure board says we're boarding next
Belt off shoes off jacket off hat
Don't need that attitude but I quite enjoy the subsequent pat down
And I'm sat down

As the A380 engine roars
Pushed backwards as this tube of monkeys rumbles forwards
Looking forward to
Another twenty hours on a plane
Nothing but shit films and my brain
I've been going slowly insane
I've seen your sport and I don't wanna play
I'm getting out of this place
I'm getting out of this place
I'm leaving LA

And the actors at Gratitude drinking undrinkable juice
And the agents taking ten percent in their sneakers and suits
And the writers in their Teslas trying to punch up Act One
Driving home on the 101 in the relentless fucking sun
And the needy and the greedy and the homeless and horny
And the deals done on treadmills at ten to six in the morning
And the Captain's on the PA saying look for the sing!
But I find it's just some fucking letters on the hill
Just some really ugly letter on a pretty ugly hill

I'm leaving LA
I'm leaving L...

No comments:

Post a Comment