Poor, Poor LA - Tim Easton

I’ve seen your imagination

High above the halfway station

Always working, always making

Something for the pile

Then you set it all on fire

You can learn to make something real

That comes from the heel of your life

I’m still trying

You don’t have to break

Your mama’s heart

To change the world

Mama’s boy’s daddy

Is in the crack house again

Watching car crash shows

With the pipe in

A pack of dull monkeys

Could write circles around

That fourth grade, mumbly slang

Stream of consciousness

Jive that you call a song

Is that going to be your story?

Child, you don’t have to break

Your mama’s heart

To change the world

You’re never gonna change your mind

Don’t just rearrange the lies

Into a straighter line

Not too many years ago

There was hippies killing people

A mile away from the Marlboro Man

Now there’s sandpaper pants

On the gutter punks

And low riders with their heads

In the trunks

Or walking in fours

And kicking in doors

Cutting it up

And filling their cup

You don’t have to break

Your mama’s heart

To change the world

Said you don’t have to break

Your mama’s heart

To change the world

Change the world

Poor, poor LA

Poor, poor LA

Poor, poor LA