Los Angeles

This is the hub of Angels; by which I call a city A concrete jungle of building that's never been pretty: Culture in place for the unappealing disparity at its center Come! And waver off on years of aimless wandering when you enter The Angels must’ve failed; their endowments left unfilled Our authenticity is a euphemism; a place by where dreams are killed We follow the hoods of lavish cars that lead us to the sea Must be that it’s an easy place to douse in our vanity