The rose of Los Angeles Now wrapped within her wires The rose of Los Angeles Now breathing through her mask The reasons long aborted Inside her clouded gla** Her fingers soft but distorted Now reaching for the past Now gone, gone, gone, gone, gone Gone, gone, gone, gone, gone Gone, gone, gone, gone, gone Gone, gone, gone, gone, gone My children they are a treason Take them from my fold They hover now like three surgeons To remove my slipping hold Now gone, gone, gone, gone, gone Gone, gone, gone, gone, gone Gone, gone, gone, gone, gone Gone, gone, gone, gone, gone So may you marry early And may your lover die Then may you find some other And may she murder you