Birthday in Los Angeles

L.A., pick up the phone
I need to talk to you
Stop sleeping with my new friends
And all the old ones too
Remember when we met?
I thought you thought I was boring
Then you called me on the phone
To arrange my birthday party
Well this ain’t a scripted movie
I don’t drive a fancy car
Those flashing lights don’t mean a thing to me
Goodbye, LA
Da da da da da da da
You showed me around the house
You took me by the wrist
Introduced me to your pals
The scientologists
We cut the cake and sang
And I tried to fake a smile
And I drank and drank and drank
Because I felt so out of style
Well this ain’t my birthday party
No, It’s just a fashion show
Yeah this is something it just isn’t me
So long, L. A
Da da da da da da da
So long, L. A
Da da da da da da da
I do miss Hollywood
Enjoy the hazy city
I’m sure you’re feeling good
But soon enough you’ll miss me
I ain’t got too much money
And nobody knows my name
But here is something I just have to say:
Fuck you, L. A