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