[CLOSE UP on hand putting out a cigarette in a purple plastic ashtray.] [MUSIC STARTS] [SLOW PULL BACK from hand to reveal the SINGER (Eli?) walking away from the table towards the microphone, under a gazebo, in a garden, as behind him the sun sets and the BAND plays, strumming their guitars in ordinary, walking-speed chords.] SINGER: The air is clean And the money is good I'll send you more Real soon [SLOW PAN UP from SINGER and BAND away from club, over the green edge of the garden, where the wild intersections and insane highways of Los Angeles are bathed in the golden glow of the setting sun.] SINGER: Fruit from the trees Is right in your reach I'm memorizing the moon Over Los Angeles [SLOW FADE THROUGH to a long string of lifeguard towers, stretching away on a golden beach, tightly-muscled and gorgeous men in sunglasses relaxing atop them. PAN along the towers - they all look alike, perfect, bronzed, ageless.] SINGER: Los Angeles Los Angeles [TURN to see the sweet blue sky and the dark blue Pacific.] [SLOW FADE THROUGH to smartly-dressed business-suited people of all ages, sexes and creeds, passing through glass doors held open by the constant stream of traffic.] SINGER: When the ground shakes I hold on tight [PAN upwards, away from the people, along the long perfect lines of glass walls extending upwards, the classic Art Deco skyscraper reflecting the white sun.] SINGER: When the city's on fire I jump in the sea [CONTINUE PAN until we reach the top and find the blank black featureless night sky of Los Angeles surrounding the top of the tower. PAN AROUND the antennae atop the tower before TILTing slightly downwards to see the immense sea of city lights extending as far as the camera can see in all directions.] SINGER: When the waters rise I dream of floating home And when I'm scared, I dream of you Holding me in Los Angeles [CONTINUE pan upwards. There doesn't seem to be any end to the swaying, undulating ocean of light.] SINGER: Los Angeles Los Angeles [SLOW FADE THROUGH TO the streets of Chinatown, where cars are stopped dead in the street. PAN along the cars: every single driver is talking on a cellular phone.] SINGER: Water days Water years [TURN slightly as we come upon a BUDDHIST PROCESSION of orange-robed, head-shaven men winding their way through the stopped cars, carrying banners with Oriental symbols and burning incense behind them.] SINGER: All things are new All things are bright and clear In Los Angeles [PAN UP from the PROCESSION to the palm trees overhanging the street. PAN FURTHER UP until only the blue sky and the bright sun can be seen again.] [There is a PAUSE in the music.] [PAN DOWN from the sky across what seems like acres of colorful graffiti, fat-lettered bright signatures across a crumbling white adobe surface.] SINGER: Babylon boys Down on their knees Like any other infinite love [PULL BACK to see two lovingly-detailed low-riders sitting at what appears to be a broken streetlight. The drivers both are talking on cellular phones, the passengers are leaning out their windows talking to each other.] SINGER: The terrible things That tore us apart Will bring us back together at last [The low-riders ease lazily into gear and cruise down the street. You can almost hear the throbbing music.] SINGER: In the city of Los Angeles Los Angeles Los Angeles Los Angeles Los Angeles [FADE MUSIC] [PAN up to the blue sky. A hint of something flying, very high - a plane? a blimp? an angel? Then FADE TO WHITE.]