When you're lost in Juarez
And it's Easter time 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 man, they really make a mess out of you

If you see Saint Annie
Tell her thanks a lot
I cannot move
And my fingers are all in a knot

And I haven't got the strength
To get up and take another shot
And my best friend the doctor
Won't even say 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 then she takes your voice
And leaves you howling at the moon

Up on project hill
It's either fortune or fame
You can take one or the other
Though neither of them are to be what they claim

And If you're looking to get silly
You'd better go back from where you came
Because the cops don't need you
And man, they expect the same

All the authorities
They just stand around and boast
How they blackmailed the sergeant-at-arms
Into leaving his post

And picking up my brother Carl
who just arrived here from the coast
Who looked so fine at first
But left looking like a ghost

Well, that's it folks, that's it

Well I started out on burgundy
But soon hit the harder stuff
Everybody said they'd stand behind me
When the game got rough

Ah, but the joke was on me
There was no-one there even to bluff
I'm going back to New York City
I do believe I've had enough

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