She put a cigarette in the tip jar
But she, she never phones home
Acid blue smoke rising
His temper gone broke
Los angeles guitar dream was a hoax
And the streets are sighing
Something classic in their eyes
They knowingly disguise
And the city is waltzing
Slow dance with the moon
That once made her swoon
And she used to leave him breathless
Always wanting more
But now its her breathing that has quickened
Running, running for the door
And the streets are sighing
Something classic in their eyes
They knowingly disguise
And the city is waltzing
Slow dance with the moon
That once made her swoon
