Strung Out

An electric concrete fantasy where the billboards keep on warning me,
that if I don't keep moving, moving I'll get stuck in this place, where nobody gets out alive.
The dead all came out to play in this metropoloitian decay, a cemetarty called Los Angeles.
The sun holds no regrets, the natives sway under arrest as all the stars fall from the sky.
Now we've all sold our souls, we're just waiting for the show to begin here at the edge.