After Los Angeles Lyrics - Singles - Joe Firstman

I got a hair cut 

A dress shirt 

A St. Paulie's girl 

But I don't need any of that 

I got a number on a napkin 

A soup can to sing through 

A tune in its worst mood 

I got a temper like a fistfight 

And a tab after midnight 

And a right fast woman 

And there'll be hell to pay 

After Los Angeles 

And you won't believe 

What I've seen 

This town is a workshop for wordsmiths 

And grifters and misters and misses 

And cheeks full of kisses 

And all of you bidders 

Can't wait till I'm bitter 

I've got a fever like the boulevard summer 

And a right fast woman 

Bury me beside you when I die 

When I'm dead and gone. 

Mama sing me to sleep 

While you weep 

But don't weep at all 

You can find me in the back 

And if you don't care 

Then why did you ask?