a: originally by The Doors
b: original by Germs
John Anson Ford Amphitheater Apr. ‘88
a. L.A. Woman
+++++++++++++
Well, I just got into town about an hour ago
Took a look around, see which way the wind blow
Where the little girls in their Hollywood bungalows
Are you a lucky little lady in The City of Light
Or just another lost angel...City of Night
City of Night, City of Night, City of Night, woo, c’mon
L.A. Woman, L.A. Woman
L.A. Woman Sunday afternoon
L.A. Woman Sunday afternoon
L.A. Woman Sunday afternoon
Drive thru your suburbs
Into your blues, into your blues, yeah
Into your blue-blue Blues
Into your blues, ohh, yeah
I see your hair is burnin’
Hills are filled with fire
If they say I never loved you
You know they are a liar
Drivin’ down your freeways
Midnite alleys roam
Cops in cars, the topless bars
Never saw a woman...
So alone, so alone
So alone, so alone
Motel Money Murder Madness
Let’s change the mood from glad to sadness
Mr. Mojo Risin’, Mr. Mojo Risin’
Mr. Mojo Risin’, Mr. Mojo Risin’
Got to keep on risin’
Mr. Mojo Risin’, Mr. Mojo Risin’
Mojo Risin’, gotta Mojo Risin’
Mr. Mojo Risin’, gotta keep on risin’
Risin’, risin’
Gone risin’, risin’
I’m gone risin’, risin’
I gotta risin’, risin’
Well, risin’, risin’
I gotta, wooo, yeah, risin’
Woah, ohh yeah
Well, I just got into town about an hour ago
Took a look around, see which way the wind blow
Where the little girls in their Hollywood
bungalows
Are you a lucky little lady in The City of Light
Or just another lost angel...City of Night
City of Night, City of Night, City of Night, woah, c’mon
L.A. Woman, L.A. Woman
L.A. Woman, your my woman
Little L.A. Woman, Little L.A. Woman
L.A. L.A. Woman Woman
L.A. Woman c’mon
b: Nausea
+++++++++
?
c: Lexicon Devil
++++++++++++++++
I’m a lexicon devil with a battered brain
And I’m lookin’ for a future-the world’s my aim
So gimme gimme your hands-gimme gimme your minds-
Gimme gimme this-gimme gimme tha-yea-yea-t
I want toy tin soldiers that can push and shove
I want gunboy rovers that’ll wreck this club
I’ll build you up and level your heads
We’ll run it my way cold men and politics dead...
(Chorus)
I’ll get silver guns to drip old blood
Let’s give this established joke a shove
We’re gonna wreak havoc on this rancid mill
I’m searchin’ for something even if I’m killed...
(Chorus)
Empty out your pockets-you don’t need their change
I’m giving you the power to rearrange
Together we’ll run to the highest prop
Tear it down and let it drop...away...
(Chorus)
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