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
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