we spin through the nights and streets
after-hours Venice Beach.
sabe que no podemos seguir asi,
fuera de control.
he has strong arms
like my father,
so I hold him close and ask him
to walk with me through the rogue
drive me home beyond the
summer bar fights.
we live in a jungle
of dim red lights and
whisky on the job.
we sell our smiles to get tips,
a Hollywood family;
shining with gold and tears.
he’s handing me a stack of bills
because he can, he calls himself
God and El Rey of Venice Beach.
he’s fire now;
one day he’ll be ashes.
their eyes are red but
I’m the one crying
and I know I am far away from home
as wordless tangos deafen
my doubts and the screams of my soul.
Los Angeles cries and her eyes shine
like skyscrapers and starlit dreams.
snow from far away falls upon her empty Hills,
but we stay warm and dry, and
at daybreak we’re left with dust
and masks to wear til sunset.
Soy la princesa,
alone in the bar,
maybe I’m rich now because I live off nothing–
and kisses and loopholes and vino rojo,
but I’ll be leaving soon.
maybe I’m drunk because I have nothing,
and now I’m full of everything.