Tekster: Al Stewart. Electric Los Angeles Sunset.
Shots split the night, the bullet lodged in his brain
He must have died instantly, he felt no pain
A crowd quickly gathered to the feast of the gun
Waiting for the ambulance and cops to come
Hmm, sirens wail in the concrete
Hmm, electric Los Angeles sunset, the sunset, the sunset
Headlight lit the faces by the tabernacle door
Gazing at the bloodstains on the damp sidewalk
As the crowd turned to go, a man was heard to say
"Ah, he must have had it comin' to him anyway"
Hmm, blood wagon rolls through the dragnet
Hmm, electric Los Angeles sunset, the sunset, the sunset
Cadillacs roll through the smoggy perfume
The buildings are choking on oxygen fumes
Evangelists praying in rented rooms in the afternoon
Which way do the signposts read
African eyes in the sunrise
The gates of the city are rusted over
And mouldering
The violence of the evening decays into the night
While shadows press like moths against the neon light
Movie queues diffuse into the Cinerama haze
While libertines read pornozines in street cafes
Hmm, the madman swings in the pulpit
Hmm, electric Los Angeles sunset, the sunset, the sunset
He must have died instantly, he felt no pain
A crowd quickly gathered to the feast of the gun
Waiting for the ambulance and cops to come
Hmm, sirens wail in the concrete
Hmm, electric Los Angeles sunset, the sunset, the sunset
Headlight lit the faces by the tabernacle door
Gazing at the bloodstains on the damp sidewalk
As the crowd turned to go, a man was heard to say
"Ah, he must have had it comin' to him anyway"
Hmm, blood wagon rolls through the dragnet
Hmm, electric Los Angeles sunset, the sunset, the sunset
Cadillacs roll through the smoggy perfume
The buildings are choking on oxygen fumes
Evangelists praying in rented rooms in the afternoon
Which way do the signposts read
African eyes in the sunrise
The gates of the city are rusted over
And mouldering
The violence of the evening decays into the night
While shadows press like moths against the neon light
Movie queues diffuse into the Cinerama haze
While libertines read pornozines in street cafes
Hmm, the madman swings in the pulpit
Hmm, electric Los Angeles sunset, the sunset, the sunset
Al Stewart
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