L.A. pick up the phone 
I need to talk to you 
Stop sleeping with my new friends, 
And all the old ones too 
Remember when we met, I thought you thought I was boring 
You called me on the phone, to arrange my birthday party 
Well this ain't a scripted movie 
I don’t drive a fancy car 
Those flashing lights don’t mean a thing to me ey ey 
Goodbye L.A. 
You showed me around the house 
You took me by the wrist 
You introduced me to your pals, the scientologists 
We cut the cake inside, 
Then I tried to fake a smile 
And I drank, and drank, and drank, 'cause I felt so out of style 
But, this ain't my birthday ṗarty 
Oh, it's just a fashion show 
Yeah this is something, it just isn’t me ey ey
So long L.A. 
Well I do miss Hollywood, enjoy the hazy city 
I’m sure you’re feeling good 
But soon enough you’ll miss me 
But I ain’t got to much money, no baby
And nobody knows my name 
But here is something I just have to say ey ey 
Fuck you L.A.