The song is the title track on their 1971 album L.A. Woman, the final album to feature Jim Morrison before his death on 3 July 1971.

Keyboardist Ray Manzarek explained the song's meaning to Uncut magazine September 2011: "A song about driving madly down the LA freeway - either heading into LA or going out on the 405 up to San Francisco. You're a beatnik on the road, like Kerouac and Neal Cassady, barreling down the freeway as fast as you can go."

Morrison recorded his vocals in the studio bathroom to get a fuller sound. He spent a lot of time in there anyway because of all the beer he drank during the sessions.

In the song's bridge, Morrison repeats the phrase "Mr. Mojo Risin'," which is an anagram of "Jim Morrison"

Lyrics

Well, I just got into town about an hour ago

Took a look around, see which way the wind blow

Where the little girls in their Hollywood bungalows

Are you a lucky little lady in the City of Light

Or just another lost angel?

City of Night, City of Night

City of Night, City of Night, woo, c'mon

L.A. woman, L.A. woman

L.A. woman, Sunday afternoon

L.A. woman, Sunday afternoon

L.A. woman, Sunday afternoon

Drive through your suburbs

Into your blues, into your blues, yeah

Into your blue-blue blues

Into your blues, oh, yeah

I see your hair is burnin'

Hills are filled with fire

If they say I never loved you

You know they are a liar

Drivin' down your freeway

Midnight alleys roam

Cops in cars

The topless bars

Never saw a woman so alone, so alone

So alone, so alone

Motel, money, murder, madness

Let's change the mood from glad to sadness

Mr. Mojo Risin', Mr. Mojo Risin'

Mr. Mojo Risin', Mr. Mojo Risin'

Got to keep on risin'

Mr. Mojo Risin', Mr. Mojo Risin'

Mojo Risin', gotta Mojo Risin'

Mr. Mojo Risin', gotta keep on risin'

Risin', risin'

Gone risin', risin'

I'm gone risin', risin'

I gotta risin', risin'

Well, risin', risin'

I gotta, woo, yeah, risin'

Whoa, oh, yeah

Well, I just got into town about an hour ago

Took a look around, see which way the wind blow

Where the little girls in their Hollywood bungalows

Are you a lucky little lady in the City of Light

Or just another lost angel?

City of Night, City of Night

City of Night, City of Night, whoa, c'mon

L.A. woman, L.A. woman

L.A. woman, you're my woman

Little L.A. woman, little L.A. woman

L.A., L.A. woman woman

L.A. woman, c'mon

The Doors