He’s got a paw print in his blue guitar I guess he’s a dog dogging the chords into the amp one chord blast over and over again hand almost windmills racing like Indy 500 just round and round the tracks down the miles with the lost child’s voice as wild as White Light White Heat gonna make me go blind

 

Now it’s just a wall of haze electrical field echoing into trance with grand strides of a nascent tune which just tumbles down the Spanish Steps