Last days in LA  

Save me baby from strange times 

You catch me cooking in the kitchen looking  

into the fire 

 
 

Lover brother baker  

burnin’ at the stake-er 

stick with me  

under the last palm tree 

And sip a little water 

from the dirty fountain meant to be 

the sum of it all 

 
 

Oh oh oh 

Keep me on the tip of your tongue 

Oh oh oh 

It’s 1-0-3 in the sun 

 
 

You don’t know what you got 

or what you want 

when LA’s hot 

It seems to make you so damn low 

 
 

You don’t know what you want 

or how to stop 

when LA’s not 

what you seen in me before 

 
 

But I, I blame it on the sun 

Yeah I, I blame it on the sun 

 
 

These nights we’ve been tearing  

are temporary 

but spit shines 

Surfing the current  

on an 80 proof serpent 

Your red eyes 

 
 

Lover brother raider hot rod-er  

souped up to the 9’s 

sitting on blocks 

And every elevator in the city  

says it’s going up 

when it’s on the rocks 

 
 

Oh oh oh 

Keep me on the tip of your tongue 

Oh oh oh 

It’s 1-0-3 in the sun 

 
 

You don’t know what you got 

or what you want 

when LA’s hot 

It seems to make you so damn slow 

 
 

You don’t know what you want 

or how to stop 

when LA’s not 

what you seen in me before 

 
 

But I, I blame it on the sun 

Yeah I, I blame it on the sun 



Yeah I, I blame it on the sun 

Yeah I, I blame it on the sun