Lyrics:
When you're lost in the rain in JuarezWhen it's Easter time tooAnd your gravity dropsAnd negativity don't pull you throughYes, don't put on no airsWhen you're down on Rue Morgue AvenueThey got some hungry women thereAnd man they really make a mess out of youNow if you see Saint AnniePlease tell her thanks a lotI cannot moveMy fingers are all in a knotI don't have the strengthTo get up and take another shotAnd my best friend the doctorWon't even say what it is I've gotSweet MelindaThe peasants call her the goddess of gloomShe speaks good EnglishAnd she invites you up into her roomAnd you're so kindAnd careful not to go to her too soonAnd she steals your voiceAnd leaves you howling at the moonUp on Housing Project HillIt's either fortune or fameYou must pick up one or the otherThough neither of them are to be what they claimIf you're lookin' to get sillyYou better go back to from where you cameBecause the cops don't need you hereAnd man they expect the sameNow all the authoritiesThey just stand around and boastHow they blackmailed the sergeant-at-armsTo getting up and leave his postAnd picking up AngelWho just arrived here from the coastWho looked so fine at firstBut left here looking just like a ghostI started out on burgundyBut soon he hit the harder stuffEverybody said they'd be behind meWhen the game got roughBut it was all a big laughThere was nobody even there to call man a bluffI'm going back to New York CityI do believe I've had enough