Los Angeles: City of Death

Ah, we're drugged by the sun, here he comes, here he comes Just waiting to become, here he comes, here he comes Growing in a lung, here he comes, here he comes Gathering our tongues, here he comes, here he comes Tunneling the ground, swallowing this sound Injecting insect dreams that he's singing into being Please, open up your hands, you woman, child and man Here he comes, here he comes, here we come, here I am Sucking colors from the root of the syphilis fruit Flattening this land, scattering the sand Burning every tree, burning every book Pulverizing the ruins of the city that he shook Flooding through the gates, screaming through the wires Flashing in the screen, swimming in the fire Inhaling everything that ever was or will become Gathering us in to undo what he has done Here he comes, here he comes, here he comes, here he comes Here he comes, here he comes, here he comes, here we run Run, run Run, run Become, become Run, run