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