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The Back Alley

By Lyrics1 min read

The Back Alley

Words and Music by John Wolfe Compton

Smokin’ in the alley, talking to bums
Just moved to Cali’, talking life as it comes,
I’m a hired gun, but can’t get no higher
Spiraling out of control, with my bugged-out desires

Out of the frying pan, and into the fire
At my ropes end, the situation is dire
Too much, too soon, now I can’t even play
Phantom from the party, no-talk-walk-away

Michael Jackson dance party,
grab ahold of the bacardi
Burning down crushies
Like I was Enzo Ferrari

Wake up the whole neighborhood, my music’s electric
My style is frenetic, My taste runs eclectic
Scream into the mic, in a state of delirium,
I make crazy demos, but you’re never even hearing them

Low profiling, you know I never get into trouble
Everywhere I go I walk to, you know I don’t leave the bubble
Off to the liquor store, it’s the third time tonight
A possum poses on a post, in the pale moonlight

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If the wind will not serve, take to the oars.
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