When you're lost in the rain in Juarez and it's Easter-time too
And your gravity's down and negativity don't get you through,
Just don't put on any airs when you're down on Rue Morgue Avenue,
They got some hungry women there and they really make a mess outta you.
Now, if you see Saint Annie, please tell her "Thanks a lot",
I cannot move, my fingers, they're all even in a knot.
I don't have the strength to get up and take another shot
And my best friend, the doctor, he won't even tell me what it is that I've gots.
Sweet Melinda, the peasants call her the "Goddess of Gloom",
She speaks good English and she invites you up into her room
And you're so kind and careful not to go to her too soon
And she steals your voice and leaves you screaming at the moon.
Up on Housing Project Hill it's either fortune or fame,
You must pick up one or the other, neither of them are to be what they claim.
If you're looking to get silly, you better go back to from where you came
Because the cops don't need you and, man, they expect the same.
Now, all the authorities, they just stand around and boast
How they blackmailed the sergeant-at-arms into getting up and leaving his post
And picking up Angel, who just arrived from the coast,
Who looked so fine at first, but left looking just like a ghost.
Alright!
I started out on burgundy, but soon hit the harder stuff,
Everybody said they'd stand behind me when the game got rough,
Yes, but the joke was on me, there was nobody even there to call my bluff.
I'm going back to New York City, I do believe I've had enough.