Just Like Tom Thumb's Blues

When you're lost in the rain

In Juarez and it's Easter time too

And your gravity fails

And negativity won'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, man, they'll really make a mess outta you

Now if you see Saint Annie

Please tell her thanks a lot

I cannot move

My fingers are all in a knot

I don't have the strength

To get up and take another shot

And my best friend, my doctor

Won't even say 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 howlin' at the moon

Up on Housing Project Hill

It's either fortune or fame

You must pick up on one or the other

Though neither of them are to be what they claim

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 leavin' his post

And pickin' up Angel

Who just arrived here from the coast

Who looked so fine at first

But left lookin' 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 on me

There was nobody even there to call my bluff

I'm goin' back to New York City

I do believe I've had enough