I've come here to lash out
I've come here to reclaim my tenderness
Which is not linear and I'm trying to remember
the white mink coat I wore on the plantation but it all fades to war paint and we wake up
in Los Angeles
His isn't a vacant smile but it leaks rage and lazy insight
Mine isn't a shattered praise but it returns aloof from the dream reciprocal and we still wake up
in Los Angeles
We hit the pitched iowa road like convicts in his landless motor saw a white god in texas and black one in shackles and we still woke up in Los Angeles the choked up mecca of our carbon black masks this fame that ass etcetera
