Pilots Absent in the City of Angels

In the embrace of the freeways, where dreams are ensnared, A ghost takes the helm, steering through the famed sprawl, No hands grace the wheel, yet the journey's declared, Through the pulsing of L.A., where ambitions enthrall. Silent chariots roam under palm trees that sway, A ballet of autos, with no dancers in sight, Here the future unfolds in its own mystic way, In the City of Angels, under the soft neon light.

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