we go down round   the far side of the tracks   lolitas playing dominos and poker   behind their daddies’ shacks   vacant-eyed, glue-face boys   on 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 pass      take 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 voices   from pretty boys   and from the best ones   you pick up connections   as they hand you your directions   to the Western Slope      I 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 me      I’m sorry   I saw him...   I saw him...   laughing...   I could hear them...   laughing...   alive...   I could hear them—      E.A. Poe   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 see me?   then follow my voice      who raised this banner?   that no one hears—The Jack   beneath the axis   digging under the current   someone’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 of the stars—      E.A. Poe   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 see me?   then follow my voice   see me...?