Just Like Tom Thumb's Blues
- Bob Dylan
When you're
lost in the rain, in Juarez, and it's Eastertime too
When 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've got some hungry women
there and they'll really make a mess out of you
If you see Saint Annie, please
tell her thanks a lot
I cannot maove and my fingers,
they are all in a knot
I don't have the strength
to get up and take another shot
And my best, my doctor, won't
even tell me what it is 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
Up on housing project hill,
it's either fortune or fame
You must pick one or the other,
though neither of them ought to be what they claim
And if you're lookin' to get
silly, you better go back to from where you came
Cause 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,
but left looking just like a ghost
I started out on burgundy,
but soon hit the harder stuff
Everybody said they'd stand
behind me when the game got rough
But the joke was one me, there
was nobody there to even bluff
I'm going back to New York
City, I do believe I've had enough