a telephone is ringing, somewhere in the night
i'm in bed sweating
thinking about some girl i had almost forgotten
and she's as distant as the ringing phone
the phone that no-one will ever answer
not in this night
this heat
it's all just vibrations at this point
looking up at the ceiling, life reveals itself
born from electric sparks
and distant sounds
inside a blank stare, right before i fall asleep
i can only hope that the phone will keep on ringing
that i will never forget that girl
and that dying will be as peaceful as Los Angeles is tonight