Tim Easton Poor Poor La
I've seen your imagination high above the halfway
station,Always working, always making something for the
pile.
Then you set it all on fire.
You can learn to make something real,
That comes from the heel of your life.
I'm still trying.
You don't have to break your mama's heart to change the
world.
Mama's boy's daddy is in the crack house again,
Watching car crash shows with the pipe in.
A pack of dull monkeys could write circles around,
That fourth grade, mumbly slang,
Stream of consciousness, jive that you call a song.
Is that going to be your story?
Child, you don't have to break your mama's heart to
change the world.
You're never gonna change your mind,
Don't just rearrange the lies into a straighter line.
Not too many years ago there was hippies killing
people,
A mile away from the Marlboro Ma.n
Now there's sandpaper pants on the gutter punks, And
lowriders with their heads in the trunks or Walking in
fours, and kicking in doors, cutting it up, and filling
their cup.
You don't have to break your mama's heart to change the
world.
Said you don't have to break your mama's heart to
change the world.
Change the world.
Poor, poor LA.
Poor, poor LA.
Poor, poor LA.
