A summer in death City Smoking hash and laying low Looking for some inspiration In a bus station window The feeling that you're slipping Is enveloping your soul You've been walking 'round for hours But the words don't seem to form After all the times you've reached your last resort You're still coming up short Hollywood's a graveyard All the stories have been told But you're sifting through remains Looking for some pretty bones The skeletons are laughing They must know something you don't In the shadows there's an answer That you simply can't ignore After all the times you've reached your last resort You're still coming up short After all the times you've reached your last resort You're still coming up short You're still coming up short