I have habits when I travel.
Leaving clues in heaps of gravel.
For the clever to unravel.
It separates me from all of the rabble.
She’s a beautiful young girl.
Her nose is turned up at the world.
Her claws show and her tail’s uncurled.
Daddy’s little angel can’t help talking backwards.
And the voices on electric wires hum with sinners, saints
Cans of smoke and burning tires. Started all these brand
Chocolate and candy cane.
She’s never going to act her age.
She’s going out the way she came in.
So Heaven sent. Hell-bent on talking backwards.
She’s not fooling anyone. She’s just like he is.
Waiting in the warm red room.
She’s not going anywhere. She’s just like you are.
Lordy, Lordy be here soon.
Dirt will bury unsolved cases.
Stolen souls with hidden faces.
Disappearing without traces from dancing dreams that
come from other places.
Put the spoon up to her lips.
Words beneath her fingertips.
And laugh as I bring down the whip.
You should know by now I’m only talking backwards.
Craig Carothers - B.G. Vx
Tim Ellis - Electric Guitar and Solo
Jim Walker - Electric Guitar, Keys, SFX, Lead Vx
Gregg Williams - Drums
Toki Wolf - Bass
Drums recorded by Gregg at THE TRENCH, Portland, OR