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Traces of the Western Slopes

Advisory - the following lyrics contain explicit language:

We go down round

The far side of the tracks

Lolita's playing dominoes and poker

Behind their daddy's shacks

Vacant-eyes, glue-face boysOn a pearl splashing glass

If they give us any flack

If they come up on our ass

We'll just give 'em the go-by

The Cadillac passTake me now

From the blue and pale room I'd follow

Through the faces and the traces of

Treasure, I keep hearing inside me

Madmen throw their voicesFrom pretty boys

And from the best ones

You pick up connections

As they hand you, your directions

To the Western SlopeI lied to my angel so I could take you downtown

I'd lie to anybody there was nobody else around

And I know what people say about me

But I lied to my angel and now he can't find meI'm sorry

I saw him

I saw him

LaughingI could hear them

Laughing

Alive

I could hear themE. A. Poe

And Johnny Johnson

If you dial in

They're calling from the Western SlopeWho's the thin thread of light

That keeps you strangled in the scenery

That follows my voice, can you se me?

Then follow my voiceWho raised this banner?

That no one hears

The Jack

Beneath the axis

Digging under the currentSomeone's trying to get back

But who's qualified to retrieve

The soul's enduring song?

From the grottos of her eyes

And the clashing starsE. A. Poe

And Johnny Johnson

If you dial in

They're calling from the Western SlopeWho's the thin thread of light

That keeps you strangled in the scenery

That follows my voice, can you se me?

Then follow my voice, see me?

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