This Town in the Rain

Nothing’s as sobering or, quite frankly, depressing
As looking out on LA in the rain
The colours of the houses, the pinks and pale blues
Against the slab gray sky is all wrong — it’s just wrong
And the palm trees, with their dead leaves
Have a hangdog expression like someone took their fun away
The tired, tarmacadam strips, just watching idiots
Slip and slide as their tires lose their grip on the road
Didn’t anybody tell them you can’t drive the same — drive insane in the rain?
In this town…
This town in the rain
The sidewalks are soused as the guttering, so used to drought
Spews the water out in loud, gushing spouts
Like Hurricane Harbour… without the fun
And parking lots are like boating lakes as pockets and puddles
Seem to spring out of the ground
There’s nowhere it can run to, with no concept of run-off
Hunted hand haunted it lies there in great gulps
No drains
No gain
This town…
This town in the rain