Tonart: Bb minor
Intro 1
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Em
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Verse 1
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I was a troll, Los Angeles
I make my home under palm trees
She was crazy, from up in the hills
She came to me when she
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needed a thrill
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I like the beach when nobody's there
I like the surfers cause they don't care
Put on your face when
you're making a deal
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She throws me cash to spin
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her wheels
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Down at the Doom Room,
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nobody's got a face
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It's right up there by the Zuma Room
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We all got a dusty little hiding place,
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place
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I got a Winston call
Waiting for the pickup trucks
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to haul us off
Digging ditches with paid Joey friend
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I guess we'd be friends if I knew
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what they said
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She picks me up at seven sharp
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As if I knew time wasn't
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a liv ing lark
And all we have is a cunning tale
Of misery laced with her
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perfumed wails
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Down at the doom room,
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nobody's got a face
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It's right up there by the Zuma Roo
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We all got a dusty little hiding place,
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place
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I guess we're all lucky
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The Santa Annas have
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hell to pay
Firestorms in our own backyard
make a rich man soft and a poor
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man hard
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Down at the doom room,
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nobody's got a face
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It's right up there by the zoomaroo
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We all got a dusty little hiding place,
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place
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Well, I was
a troll in Los Angeles,
and I make my home under palm trees.
Yes. Thank you. Thank you.
Thank you. Thank you, Sean.
Are you doing another one?
Perfect.
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