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The Burning of Los Angeles

by Justin Wiles

/
1.
One little island, one sinking boat One little secret too impure to float One little eager lover, one little evil brother And into the old we go If you have love for me, hold out your hand I may never let it go One little garden that doesn't grow One little person too unknown to know Another distant lover, another unwed mother And into the cold we go If you have love for me, hold out your hand I may never let it go Another mystery I may never solve Pieces of history too taurus to evolve One little eager lover, denizen of the gutter Watching the doors revolve If you have love for me, hold out your hand I may never let it go
2.
After the wars settled our scores And we were forced to collaborate in our new fate Then came the noise and beat-belting voice To prod at the poise our backs would break to cultivate Arming the catapults decades too late The line holds and finally folds When we let enough of the past in Bombing and blasting and breaking us up Open the doors, take us, we're yours All in due course, first we'll take you straight to the magistrate Who'll see you up close, who'll take off your clothes Who'll look down his nose And nightly compensate for your dowdy dead weight With ingenue animals lying in wait The line holds and finally folds When we let enough of the past in Bombing and blasting and breaking us up
3.
On a freight train bound for Rodeo, retired balladeer With half a mind to save some time and end the ride right here A little blue, a little blue, I was humming this here tune And I stared the face of death down Yeah but death, he didn't move So I caught the stop on Rodeo and tumbled from the train A mist of beer and whiskey fleeing foully from my veins If the accusal is sedition and the penalty is pain Oh you members of the jury, please permit me to explain That I don't need another song I don't need another song I don't need another God damn Trottin' Song I am done Well, in shambles I resurfaced to a gang of arsonists Offering me to a posse who slapped handcuffs 'round my wrists "It was you, it was you!" they with ashen face accused Then they dragged me to the church house Where the fire first was loosed And in pure collective odium they hurled me into hell The preacher at the podium a rhythmic burning bell And with each deafening strike, an offer to absolve and quell All these famished flames of sin, I swear the devil's been expelled And I don't need another song I don't need another song I don't need another God damn Trottin' Song No, I don't need another song I don't need another song I don't need another God damn Trottin' Song I am done So I loaded all my demons onto less fortunate souls And though I've vomited the feeling I still taste it in my throat In the flesh, in the ghosts, in the tearing of my clothes In the breasts of fifty women and in the fetuses that grow In the wombs of fifty mothers on the trot to fifty shows And so I lock arms with my family before they've all let go I sink in faceless agony as I already know That each one sees just the bad in me, the alley calico So quick and careless with his lovers Brothers, sisters, children No, I do not need another song I don't need another song I don't need another God damn Trottin' Song No, I don't need another song I don't need another song I don't need another God damn Trottin' Song I am done Sotted, staggering, slovenly sequestered in this bar On my right a spoony siren, on my left loyal guitar And in this booze, in this booze, the influence to confuse Soft and sweet spurious verses with a veridical muse So we ambled down the avenue that led to the motel Not only was I seeing double, I was believing it as well A little screw, a little screw, another biopic to sell The day my breath just left me and the axe finally fell Well, some call me a troubadour, some claim I lack a soul Because I've buried all my politics in dusty desert holes More control, more control, hefting heavy loads of goal I am content I never spent time bent in venture to keep hold Framed in febrile footlights, crooned an unobtrusive ode Just a few lines once forgotten, now pronounced in brazen bold "Is it you, is it you?" in a canticle they cooed And their eyes bled with compassion as I passed out of their view And a few maintain my last refrain still meanders in this room And to a cluster of companions left abandoned to no end I impart an explanation, tandem never was my trend Oh, you magnanimous beauties, ever constant to defend The memory of this vicious lover, this insidious has-been I'll never need another song I don't need another song I don't need another God damn Trottin' Song No, I don't need another song I don't need another song I don't need another God damn song No, I don't need another song I don't need another song I don't need another God damn Trottin' Song I am done
4.
If you were a different person with a different name Would your situation worsen, improve or stay the same? Sign in nearly perfect cursive, live a life of fame If you were a different person with a different name With a different name You can have it all, pay the price Never without thinking twice Any doubts will suffice for disbelieving Calling on flashing lights To make men out of mere mice Disregard the advice you are receiving 'Cause you're all you've got You're all you've got You're all you've got unless you're leaving If you start a new existence in another place Could your memory be by distance totally erased? Propaganda's pumping pistons powering your pace If you start a new existence in another place In another place You can have it all, pay the price Never without thinking twice Any doubts will suffice for disbelieving Calling on flashing lights To make men out of mere mice Disregard the advice you are receiving 'Cause you're all you've got You're all you've got You're all you've got unless you're leaving
5.
Waterloo 02:42
Well, I was just a caller who aspired to be all that you desired When desirous thoughts occurred to you And you had your admirers to inspire or set afire Or reduce to servile squires who do nice things for you Still I was determined to convert you via sermon Proud professions how I'd burn in hell to be with you But you had reservations, self affected fascinations Immature infatuations vindicating you Oh Waterloo, oh Waterloo I am falling through, I am falling through you Waterloo, oh Waterloo I am falling through, I am falling through You were the occasion, you commanded my invasion I began to grow impatient in my lust for you Sensing your pretenses, circumventing your defenses I proceed somehow to put the fear of God in you Drawing my conclusions, I'm erasing your delusions Writing off my sad intrusions as some quest for you Yet under these impressions I'm above your indiscretions Sunday matinee confessions, all concerning you Oh Waterloo, oh Waterloo I am falling through, I am falling through you Waterloo, oh Waterloo I am falling through, I am falling through you
6.
Preying on every word you're saying, all is heard We're waiting, standing where you've stood New faces in Hollywood We're taking bows, clapping hands Open mouths making dumb demands As we pin you up in a godlike stance Fire at your feet and insist that you dance 'Cause we're your biggest fans We're your biggest fans... There is no way to resist this airbrushed loveliness Wearing my insatiable kiss, you'll look like happiness We're making rows, clapping hands Open mouths making dumb demands As we pin you up in a godlike stance Wire all your phones in a fit of romance 'Cause we're your biggest fans We're your biggest fans... We're taking bows, clapping hands Open mouths making dumb demands As we pin you up in a godlike stance Fire at your feet and insist that you dance 'Cause we're your biggest fans We're your biggest fans...
7.
Come see the show Everyone you know is gonna go Move to the sun Sell your sadly sagging soul to anyone who pays for your time Now and then a few on your own dime Just to get to the top You heard it was no ordinary drop And the road's laid out ahead of us And the fare's been paid, we're on the bus With a fearful-faced evangelist For the burning of Los Angeles Wear your disguise Smiles for the faces you despise Tear into your head Fall in with the ranks of the walking dead who've come to reside Who heard this was no ordinary ride On your first spiral down You'll know this is no ordinary town And the road's laid out ahead of us And the fare's been paid, we're on the bus With a fearful-faced evangelist And the road's laud out ahead of us And the rioters are ravenous In the burning of Los Angeles... (We'll burn it down)
8.
At the end of the story there's a new one to be told One that springs forth from the old, so don't you worry At the end of the story there's a villain to defeat Or force into retreat with no returning At the end of the story... At the end of the story there are friends who must depart And find a brand new start in an awful hurry For at the end of the story there are tears that must be shed As we trek off to find a bed and turn in early At the end of the story... You know I loved you from the moment that I met you But I bet you that from there it's only downhill I expect to be rejected 'fore I hear the words "the end" And a brand new disappointment can begin, oh yeah And a brand new disappointment can begin At the end of the story there's a lesson to be learned Aggression overturned, so don't you worry For at the end of the story there's a new one to be told One that springs forth from the old, so don't you worry At the end of the story... You know I loved you from the moment that I met you But I bet you that from there it's only downhill I expect to be rejected 'fore I hear the words "the end" And a brand new disappointment can begin, oh yeah And a brand new disappointment can begin, oh my And a brand new disappointment can begin, ah shit And a brand new disappointment can begin

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released June 1, 2013

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Justin Wiles

Justin Wiles is a singer-songwriter whose compositions are centered around intricate, delicate, melodic guitars and poetic lyrics. His DIY recording style often includes dense musical arrangements and many layered vocals.

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