| L.A., who’da thought
|
| Right smack dab in the middle of what
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| With the belching buses and the broken bones
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| Said, ‽Devil, pour me another shotâ€
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| Hey, hey, L.A.
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| Who’da thought, who’da thought, who’da thought
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| L.A., after closing when it’s down to me
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| And the same old souls
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| Well, Johnny’s all right if you buy him a gin
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| He’ll tell you his stories about Errol Flynn
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| He even danced with Marilyn
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| That’s what they say
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| Devil, pour me another shot
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| Hey, hey, L.A.
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| Who’da thought, who’da thought
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| I woulda never thought
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| Up through the cracks
|
| Up through the broken glass
|
| In the hot red light of a black and white
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| Roses grow
|
| Up through the cracks
|
| Up through the broken glass
|
| In the hot red light of a black and white
|
| Roses grow, roses grow
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| Roses grow, roses grow
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| You know Roxy was is in tonight
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| She’s styling around in her fishnet tights
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| And she’s got more life at 65
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| Than the teenage boys she keeps up all night
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| She said heavy metal and the young hard cock
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| What, can’t you handle that kind of talk?
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| The strippers here, they really rock
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| Devil, pour me another shot
|
| Hey, hey, L.A.
|
| Who’da thought, who’da thought
|
| I never woulda thought, never woulda thought
|
| Up through the cracks
|
| Up through the broken glass
|
| In the hot red light of a black and white
|
| Roses grow
|
| Up through the cracks
|
| Up through the broken glass
|
| In the hot red light of a black and white
|
| Roses grow
|
| Roses grow, roses grow
|
| Roses grow, roses grow
|
| Roses grow, roses grow
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| Roses grow, say |