A neon sky
Like an unpeeled clementine
Hanging blood bright
In the bare
Branches of the Lord
The Creator let it drop
Of its own
Rotten accord
The smoke stings
The sun's bloodshot eye
It's a November sunset:
You gotta expect a little arson
What will be is meant to be
Ashes falling from the sky:
LA's an ashtray
It needs washing dry
In the Santa Monica bay
Singed air flaked with
White angel skin
The ember's hot but seductive
Once you touch it, you want more
The cackling flames
Pause to laugh
Their mouths greedy
Full of gra**
Razorblades, glinting:
Carving up the canyons
November sunset:
A little arson and
A fire in the sky
A little fire in the sky
Oh, November sunset