|
They're selling postcards of the hanging |
|
Where they're painting the passports brown |
|
Yeah, the beauty parlor's filled with sailors |
|
The circus is in town |
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Oh now but here comes the blind commissioner |
|
Well, they got him in a trance |
|
One hand is tied to the tight-rope walker |
|
The other's in his pants |
|
And the riot squad, they're restless |
|
They need somewhere to go |
|
As Lady and I look out tonight |
|
From Desolation Row |
|
Cinderella, she seems so easy |
|
"Well, it takes one to know one," she smiles |
|
And she puts her hands in her back pockets |
|
Bette Davis style |
|
Now but in comes Romeo moaning |
|
"You belong to me I believe" |
|
And someone says, "You're in the wrong place, my friend |
|
You better leave" |
|
And then only sound that's left |
|
After the ambulances go |
|
Is Cinderella sweeping up |
|
On Desolation Row |
|
Now at midnight all the agents |
|
And super-human crew |
|
Go out and round up everyone |
|
That knows more than they do |
|
They gonna bring 'em to the factory |
|
Where the heart-attack machine |
|
Is strapped across their shoulders |
|
And then the kerosene! |
|
Is brought down from the castles |
|
By insurance men who go |
|
Check to see that no one is escaping |
|
To Desolation Row |
|
'Cause right now I can't read too good |
|
Don't send me no letters, no |
|
Not unless you gotta mail them |
|
From Desolation Row |
