| We go down round
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| The far side of the tracks
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| Lolitas playing dominoes and poker
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| Behind their daddy’s shacks
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| Vacant-eyes, glue-face boys
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| On a pearl splashing glass
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| If they give us any flack
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| If they come up on our ass
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| We’ll just give 'em the go-by
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| The Cadillac pass
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| Take me now
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| From the blue and pale room I’d follow
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| Through the faces and the traces of
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| Treasure I keep hearing inside me
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| Madmen throw their voices
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| From pretty boys
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| And from the best ones
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| You pick up connections
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| As they hand you your directions
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| To the Western Slope
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| I lied to my angel so I could take you downtown
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| I’d lie to anybody there was nobody else around
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| And I know what people say about me
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| But I lied to my angel and now he can’t find me
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| I’m sorry
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| I saw him
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| I saw him
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| Laughing
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| I could hear them
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| Laughing
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| Alive
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| I could hear them
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| And Johnny Johnson
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| If you dial in
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| They’re calling from the Western Slope
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| Who’s the thin thread of light
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| That keeps you strangled in the scenery
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| That follows my voice --- can you se me?
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| Then follow my voice
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| Who raised this banner?
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| That no one hears --- The Jack
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| Beneath the axis
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| Digging under the current
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| Someone’s trying to get back
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| But who’s qualified to retrieve
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| The soul’s enduring song?
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| From the grottos of her eyes
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| And the clashing stars
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| And Johnny Johnson
|
| If you dial in
|
| They’re calling from the Western Slope
|
| Who’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? |