St. Vincent (Annie Clark)

In Los Angeles, the winner never comes In Los Angeles, the mothers milk their young But I can keep running, oh I can keep running I, oh I The Los Angeles, hang out by the bar

Burn the pages of unwritten memoirs, but I can keep running.

Oh, I can keep running.

I, oh, I.

How could anybody have you?

How could anybody have you and lose you?

How could anybody have you and lose you and not lose their mind too?

How could anybody have you?

How could anybody have you and lose you?

How could anybody have you and lose you and not lose their mind too?

On the street

Who the hell do you think I am?

And what are you looking at?

Like you've never seen a broken man.

You know, I think that there are these kind of frequencies that we can tune into in our brain that are like, you know, whether it's deep ego stuff that underneath that is really just a whole lot of pain.

And you're walking down the street and you feel like you could...

fall in love with somebody or kick over the trash cans.

And if someone looks at you the wrong way, you just could explode.

I just, I have that feeling.

I mean, not every day.