The band starts by giving you the whole ride first: clipped guitar, firm drums, and a groove that already feels lived in.

Morrison comes in low and conversational, already inside the trip: he just got into town and he's looking for which way the wind blows.

When he asks about a lost angel, the same steady band keeps moving under him, so the line feels less like scenery and more like a warning sign.

Here's the title hook. The city suddenly has a name and a face, but the rhythm underneath hasn't softened.

The suburb line pulls the song back into place: sun on the surface, then straight into the blues again.

The next verse brings fire into the words, but the band doesn't make a big dramatic turn. It just carries the burning hills inside the same hard groove.

Now the images go by faster: freeways, midnight alleys, cars, topless bars, and then that blunt turn into being so alone.

"Motel money murder madness" hits with all those hard m sounds, and the vocal makes the mood change before the band opens into the break.

The "Mr. Mojo Risin'" section starts as a phrase and then becomes rhythm. Listen to how the voice keeps finding new weight in the same words.

The opening verse returns, but it doesn't feel like a reset. After the chant, the same arrival line sounds rougher and more spent.

The lost angel question comes back too, and this time it feels confirmed by everything the song has driven through.

The final title refrain takes over, with "you're my woman" giving the name a last possessive charge as the band rides it out.