Leaving LA Father John Misty

[Verse 1]
I was living on the hill
By the water tower and hiking trails
And when the big one hit I’d have a seat
To watch masters abandon their dogs and dogs run free
Oh baby, it’s time to leave
Take the van and the hearse down to New Orleans
Leave under the gaze of the billboard queens
Five-foot chicks with parted lips selling sweatshop jeans

[Verse 2]
These L.A. phonies and their bullshit bands
That sound like dollar signs and Amy Grant
So reads the pull quote from my last cover piece
Entitled "The Oldest Man in Folk Rock Speaks”
You can hear it all over the airwaves
The manufactured gasp of the final days
Someone should tell them ‘bout the time that they don’t have
To praise the glorious future and the hopeless past

[Verse 3]
A few things the songwriter needs
Arrows of love, a mask of tragedy
But if you want ecstasy or birth control
Just run the tap until the water’s cold
Anything else you can get online
A creation myth or a .45
You're going to need one or the other to survive
Where only the armed or the funny make it out alive