Just Like Tom Thumb's Blues

When you're lost in the rain in Juarez And it's Eastertime, too And your gravity fails And negativity don't pull you through 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 out of you Well, if you see Saint Annie Please, tell her, "Thanks a lot" I cannot move and my fingers They are all in a knot I haven't got the strength To get up and take another shot And my best friend, the doctor Won't even say what I've got 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 takes your voice And leaves you howling at the moon Well, up on Housing Project Hill It's either fortune or fame You can pick one or the other Though neither of them are to be what they claim And if you're lookin' 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 leaving his post And picking up Angel Who just arrived here from the coast Who looked so fine at first And left looking just like a ghost Well, I started out on burgundy But soon hit the harder stuff Everybody said they'd stand beside me When the game got rough Well, you know, the joke was on me There was nobody even there to bluff I'm going back to New York City I do believe I've had enough