This city shines with gold The streets are crowded and old. Everywhere you turn A star has once stood. Livin' near Tinsletown Are people whose lucks are down And they spurn The names on Hollywood.
Envy bites at them deeply As they live very cheaply All alone, Dreaming meekly. Once awhile they go to a studio Where they hope to be on a show And the phone Will let them know.
But most times Disappointment rears its ugly head. And the hopeful people Hear this sound instead:
Getting your name out there Is harder than it appears When others are Doing it too. And for people born with privledge Fame is easily given. Others are barred From "dreams come true".
Crossing fingers give hope, And praying can help you cope, But actual success will Never come that way. Make sure you look thin and pretty Or willing to act mean and petty 'Cause sometimes skill Doesn't count at the end of the day.
Even with those requirements Someone has them more. They're better, smarter, prettier While you're shown out the door.
Mama, it's your kid I want to come back home. LA's days are scorching, Its nights' cold to the bone. I'm lost in my direction And have nowhere to go. I fit no one's satisfaction And I've hit lowest low. So come save me from my depression. Who knew such hardship would come from an entitled profession?