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