Cadd2: x 3 0 0 1 0 Dmadd2:x x 0 0 3 1 Fadd2: 1 3 3 0 1 1 C C C C Cadd2 C (x2)

^CThere is a city by^Cadd2 the s^Cea, a gentle com^Cadd2 - pa ^Am- ny, I don't suppos^Asus2e you ^Emwant to ^F ^F ^G ^G

And as it tells its sorry tale, in harrowing detail Its hollowness will haunt you

^DmIts streets and boulevards,^Dmadd2 ^Forphans and olig^Fadd2archs it ^Amhears ^Asus2 ^FA plaintive melody,^Fadd2 ^Dmtruncated symphony ^Dmadd2 An ^Focean's garbled vomit on ^Fadd2the ^Gshore, Los ^FAn^Fge^Gle^Gs, I'm ^Cyours

C C C C Cadd2 C (x4) F F G G Oh ladies pleasant and demure, sallow-cheeked and sure I can see your undies And all the boys you drag about, an empty fallow fount From Saturdays to Mondays You hill and valley crowd, hanging your trousers down at heel This is the realest thing, as ancient choirs sing A dozen blushing cherubs wheel above Los Angeles my love C C C C Cadd2 C (x2) C C# Dmaj7 C#m Dmaj7 C#m C#m D# E . . . (solos)

^D Oh what a rush of ripe ?^D?lan, languor on d^Bmivans, dallian^Bsus2t and dai^F#mnty ^G ^G ^A ^A ^DBut oh the smell of bur^Dsus2nt cocai^Dne, the dolor and ^Dsus2decay ^Bm It only makes ^Bsus2me ^F#mcranky^G ^G ^A ^A ^DmOh great calamity, ^Dmadd2 ^Fditch of iniquity ^Fsus2and ^Amtears ^Asus2 ^Am ^FHow I abhor this place,^Fsus2 ^Dmits sweet and bitter taste ^Dmadd2 Has ^Fleft me wretched, ret^Fsus2ching on all ^Gfours Los ^FAn^Fge^Gle^Gs, I'm ^Cyours Los Angeles, I'm yours Los Angeles, I'm yours

F F G G C F F G G C

Decemberists - Los angeles im yours