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letra de leaving l.a. - tim minchin

[verse 1]
check the locks and leave the keys
mouldy bath masked with febreeze
something’s dead behind the refrigerator
some poor schmuck will deal with it later

[pre-chorus]
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 l.a
i’m leaving l.a

[chorus}
and the tourists say
please give me the directions to the hollywood sign
i always dreamt of coming here to see the hollywood sign
but on their way back down they’ll ask
“did you have a good time?”
they’ll say it’s just some frickin’ letters on a hill
but still

[verse 2]
i wander through the bronson caves
one more ok coffee at the oak’s gourmet
i’ll watch the players at the ucb
trying to improvise their way out of ennui
and on tv as you and me
walking trails in the creeping dark
off to the observatory in griffith park

[pre-chorus]
there’s too much light for stars anyway
i’m getting out of this place
i’m leaving l.a
i’m leaving l.a

[chorus]
and the studio executives who never made a thing
blaming other for their losses, taking credit for their wins
wiping the blood of dumb artists from their chins
grinning, kid you oughtn’t take it personally

[bridge]
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 a hill

[verse 3]
a russian bar, machine-gun cops at lax
malfunctioning departure board says we’re boarding next
belt off, shoes off, jacket off, hat
don’t need the att-tude, but i quite enjoy the subsequent pat-down
and i’m sat down as the a380 engine roars
pushed backwards even as this tube of monkeys rumbles forwards

[pre-chorus]
i’m looking forward to another twenty hours on a plane
nothing but cr-p 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 l.a

[chorus]
and the actors at grat-tude 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 socal sun
and the greedy and the needy and the homeless and h-rny
and the deals done on treadmills at ten to six in the morning
and the captain’s on the pa saying look for the sign
but i find it’s just some frickin’ letters on a hill
just some ugly, godd-mn letters

i’m leaving l.a

- tim minchin

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