I came here as a child
Strapped in the back of
The station wagon.
Inside the great concrete lobby,
Mother and father
Were fighting about
Something inconsequential,
Her earrings, His sunburn;
I padded off
To the elevator,
I pushed the button for the top floor.
And we begin to climb...
And we begin to climb...
On the third floor, an old man steps inside for a ride
And offers up his opinions on aqueducts and irrigation
On the fourth floor a night jar flutters in with a grin
He chants a mechanical song
Much to the old man's irritation
At seven we exit the shaft for the sky buildings and great birds of prey
The old man is slapping his thigh while the nightjar praises LA
Now on nine some primordial palm tree's colonnade offers shade
To real estate men who would swindle an elder for a single dollar
Then on twelve I see Hollwood's Golden Stars in their cars
They drive down the yellow brick road
While Joseph Cotten pops his collar
On eighteen an elegant porter in linen
Ambles aboard, looking toward the upheaval
Says Kennedy's been shot at the hotel he'd been in
And the old man explains a poetics of evil
Twenty-six I see the city
As a series of fires
Terror at farmstands and liquor stores
And pyramids of tires
A fragile peace is reached
When we get to twenty-nine
While Hollywood destroys Los Angeles
For the two-hundredth time.
While we watch the survivors sift through the scenes
The old man explains what "pathology" means
And we begin to climb...
Thirty-five, the menagerie takes their leave, I would grieve, but
Just as the loneliness sets in
The loveliest green-eyed girl steps in
We smile at each other and and she takes my hand
As the city is trembling and prone.
All the buildings are turning to sand
We hold onto each other and ride up on our own
And we begin to climb
And we begin to climb
And we begin to climb