magnolia

washed-up prodigies
their failed proteges
they’re out on parade
they’re fading away
they’re locked in the past
they’re lost in L.A.
they got their just coming
deserted at the end of the sands
but they’re still in denial
there’s blood in their hands
they could still be alive
driving north on the five
into frantic oblivion
into skies of vermillion
they could have it so easy
but they’ve gotta live hard
pimp it out one last night
la brea and sunset boulevard
tabled projects table reads
put-off futures put-off needs
weeping sutures old palm trees
shaking off their dead leaves
to be reborn again
even if it’s not a good idea