About L.A.

My phone hasn't rung in a year.
It seems I've been forgotten here,
where the stars don't shine at night
not even when it's clear.

And I go out and dance with the wives
of the stylish young metro guys,
when the moon is a stone's throw away
if you go as the crow flies.

I live in a nightclub, sleep on the floors,
make anonymous love to the girls I adore,
but forget to call the next day,
'cause honestly I was so bored.

And the people I still call my friends
I could count on one finger and then
still have room for one more
because I am the one I meant.

Sitting in the back of the plane,
got the sun in my face through the small double pane
I'm waving goodbye to this town:
I'll never be back here again.

It's better to leave when you're down:
I'll never be back here again.