The Weather In L.A.

They say there's no weather in L.A.
That the seasons don't change.
Just because our winters don't snow.
And our summers aren't humid.
But we have seasons.
They change.
As sure as my next show will end, they change.
As sure as I change, they change.
The differences may be subtle, but they're there.
You can feel it in your bones.
You can see it in the sky.
You can sense it in the air.
The days get darker.
The nights longer.
The sun doesn't shine as bright.
And the moon hangs low.
Your body feels tired.
Exhausted and melancholy.
But soon enough,
When you've accepted the gray,
The light gradually comes back.
Little by little.
Day by day.
The sky gets brighter.
The nights not as long.
The morning sun makes skyscrapers shimmer like diamonds on the horizon.
And the moon takes its place at night.
You feel lighter,
With a bounce in your step.
Flowers bloom and the grass under your feet turns green again.
The dry, beige strands becoming nothing but a distant memory.
But as soon as you get used to the warmth on your face,
And the cloudless blue sky,
The breeze turns cool.
The clouds move in.
A shiver runs through you.
And the rain begins to fall.
The days get darker.
The nights longer.
The sun doesn't shine as bright.
And the moon hangs low.
You can sense it in the air.
You can see it in the sky.
You can feel it in your bones.
As sure as I change, the seasons change.
As sure as my next show will end, they change.
They change.
And I change with them.