Neighborhood

Where I live now
Is a little red house
Down on Wilcox and Fountain
Los Angeles
I sleep through the sirens
Police lullabies
And I ride
My little black bicycle
Down to Bogie’s
And drag queen Cecilia
She’s the last true believer
She’s walking the Boulevard
She’s handing out leaflets
That nobody reads
Cause they know all the secrets
And the don’t need a reason
To be, so scared
And this ain’t no kind of scene, babe
Why in the world would you follow me here
And this ain’t no kind of scene
Why in the world would you follow me here
You followed me here
My friends and my worries
They got old in a hurry
But no less deserving
A fond farewell
And bellbottomed cheapskates
They’re all asleep in the heat wave
And they wake up
From their dreams
Of the sixties
Find that nothing has changed
Baby nothing has changed
And this ain’t no kind of scene
Why in the world would you follow me here
And you believe what you wanna believe
And this ain’t no kind of scene
And I hang out with singers
Bunch of glass jawed bleeders
Whose skin
Is as thin
As a leaf
And there’s actors
And dancers
And more second chancers
Than lights