(Dedicated to Los Angeles, that Loved Harvey Weinstein, Until it Didn’t)
by Charles Carreon
November 8, 2017


Way down in Los Angeles,
That city by the sea
There was a mighty industry
That everybody thought was sweet.

They called it entertainment,
Vaudeville, they made silent pictures,
Publicity stills. They had talent agents,
talent scouts; they made the country laugh
and kept the public out.

Hollywood became its name
A silly sign its claim to fame
It drew foolish girls
Like moths to flame
In a world gone mad
Well, who’s to blame.

The temples of Hollywood are up in the sky
Through the freeway canyons
The limousines fly. They’re loaded
with girls who wanna be stars.
Next stop is the Minotaur.

He’s got several lairs in the Hollywood hills,
Unlike Bill Cosby, he doesn’t use pills,
He more likes to trap,
Then move in for the kill.

Built like a bear, but not as good looking,
The Minotaur’s friends
All say they weren’t watching
When he feasted on virginal,
delicate flesh,
Wiped his mouth on his bathrobe,
And satisfied, left.

Hollywood’s a labyrinth, they say,
Don’t you see? Concierges and bellhops,
doormen and valets, a thousand
hotel rooms, a million blind hallways.
A girl could get lost here
And never be found
Till at last that old Minotaur
Does come around
And asks himself lecherously,
“What have I found?”

So who built this labyrinth,
So secret and safe,
To house this dread predator
Who loves to make waste?
Why did they love this Minotaur more
Than the virginal offerings
Whose flesh the beast tore?
What did he give them
To protect him with lies
To induce still more victims
To please his desires?

Well, the Minotaur, it seems
Is a creature of dreams,
For all one desires is seen in his eyes,
And in that same place
All one’s dreams die.

His evil is cunning;
It moves not a step,
Till all is secure
And the trap has been set
Planning and preparation the keys to his game
You were foolish to trust him, so you’re to blame.

Now they say the Minotaur is dead
The’ve taken off its head
They’ve dragged it behind
an Escalade
Painting Sunset red.

Yes, they’ve got the guards out tonight
Labyrinth’s locked up tight
The Minotaur’s no more
And the Pacific Ocean
Has departed the shore.