I started out on burgundy
But soon hit the harder stuff
My friends all said that they'd stand beside me
After the gun run rough
But the joke was on me
There was nobody even there to call my bluff
I'm going back to New York City
I do believe I've had enough
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 steals your voice
And leaves you howling at the moon
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 outa you
Up on Housing Project Hill
It's either fortune or fame
You must pick up 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 here
And what they expect the same
I started out on burgundy
But soon hit the harder stuff
My friends all said that they'd stand beside me
After the gun run rough
But the joke was on me
There was nobody even there to call my bluff
I'm going back to New York City
I do believe I've had enough
I'm going back to New York City
I do believe I've had enough