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 walking down on Rue Morgue Avenue
They got some ugly women there and they really make a mess out of you

Now, if you see Saint Annie, please tell her thanks a lot
I cannot move, my fingers are all in a knot
And I don't have the strength to get up and take another shot
And my best friend, the 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 so gentle not to go to her too soon
And she steals your voice and leaves you howling at the moon

Up on Housing Project Hill, it's either fortune or fame
You must choose one or the other, although neither of them are to be what they claim
And if you're lookin' to get lucky, you better go back to from where you came
'Cause the cops don't need you, and man, they expect the same

I started off on burgundy but soon I hit the harder stuff
My friends all said they'd stand behind me if the game got 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
I'm going back to New York City, I do believe I've had enough

Copyright: Universal Music Publishing Group
Writer(s): Bob Dylan