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

    Marco Giunco
    Work Basket Music Words