Lyrics:

[Originally by Bob Dylan]

When youre lost in the rain in Juarez
And its Eastertime too
And your gravity fails
And negativity dont pull you through
Dont put on any airs
When youre down on Rue Morgue Avenue
They got some hungry women there
And they really make a mess outa you.

Now if you see Saint Annie
Please tell her thanks a lot
I cannot move
My fingers are all in a knot
I dont have the strength
To get up and take another shot
And my best friend, my doctor
Wont even say what it is Ive got.

Sweet Melinda
The peasants call her the goddess of gloom
She speaks good English
And she invites you up into her room
And youre so kind
And careful not to go to her too soon
And she takes your voice
And leaves you howling at the moon.

Up on Housing Project Hill
Its either fortune or fame
You must pick up one or the other
Though neither of them are to be what they claim
If youre lookin to get silly
You better go back to from where you came
Because the cops dont 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 leaving his post
And picking up Angel who
Just arrived here from the coast
Who looked so fine at first
But left looking just like a ghost.

I started out on burgundy
But soon hit the harder stuff
Everybody said theyd stand behind me
When the game got rough
But the joke was on me
There was nobody even there to bluff
Im going back to New York City
I do believe Ive had enough.