1. Like A Rolling Stone
2. Tombstone Blues
3. It Takes A Lot To Laugh, It Takes A Train To Cry
4. From A Buick 6
5. Ballad Of A Thin Man
6. Queen Jane Approximately
7. Highway 61 Revisited
8. Just Like Tom Thumb's Blues
9. Desolation Row
LIKE A ROLLING STONES
Once upon a time you dressed so fine,
Threw the bums a dime in your prime, didn't you?
People'd call, say, "Beware doll, you're bound to fall"
You thought they were all a’kiddin' you.
You used to laugh about
Everybody that was hangin' out.
Now you don't talk so loud,
Now you don't seem so proud,
About having to be scrounging your next meal.
How does it feel?
How does it feel?
To be without a home?
Like a complete unknown?
Like a rolling stone?
Aw, you've gone to the finest school all right, Miss Lonely,
But you know you only used to get “juiced” in it.
Nobody’s ever taught you how to live out on the street,
And now you're gonna have to get used to it.
You say you never compromise
With a mystery tramp, but now you realize
He's not selling any alibis
As you stare into the vacuum of his eyes
And say, “Do you want to make a deal?
How does it feel?
How does it feel?
To be on your own?
With no direction home?
A complete unknown?
Like a rolling stone?
Aw, you never turned around to see the frowns
On the jugglers and the clowns
When they all did tricks for you.
You never understood that it ain't no good,
You shouldn't let other people get your kicks for you.
You used to ride on a chrome horse with your diplomat
Who carried on his shoulder a Siamese cat.
Ain't it hard when you discover that
He really wasn't where it's at
After he took from you everything he could steal?
How does it feel?
How does it feel?
To have ya’ on your own?
With no direction home?
Like a complete unknown?
Like a rolling stone?
Aw, princess on the steeple and all the pretty people
They're all drinkin', thinkin' that they’ve got it made.
Exchanging all precious gifts,
But you'd better take your diamond ring, you'd better pawn it babe.
You used to be so amused
At Napoleon in rags and the language that he used.
Go to him now, he calls you, you can't refuse.
When you ain’t got nothing, you’ve got nothing to lose
You're invisible now, you’ve got no secrets to conceal.
How does it feel?
Aw, how does it feel?
To be on your own?
With no direction home?
Like a complete unknown?
Like a rolling stone?
TOMBSTONE BLUES
The sweet pretty things are in bed now of course
The city fathers they're trying to endorse
The reincarnation of Paul Revere's horse
But the town has no need to be nervous.
The ghost of Belle Star she hands down her wits
To Jezebel the nun she violently knits
A bald wig for Jack the Ripper who sits
At the head of the chamber of commerce.
Mama's in the fact'ry
She ain't got no shoes
Daddy's in the alley
He's lookin' for food.
I'm in the kitchen
With the tombstone blues.
The hysterical bride in the penny arcade
Screaming she moans, "I've just been made"
Then sends out for the doctor who pulls down the shade
Says, "My advice is to not let the boys in".
Now the medicine man comes and he shuffles inside
He walks with a swagger and he says to be bride
"Stop all this weeping, swallow your pride
You will not die, it's not poison".
Mama's in the fact'ry
She ain't got no shoes
Daddy's in the alley
He's lookin' for food.
I'm in the kitchen
With the tombstone blues.
Well, John the Baptist after torturing a thief
Looks up at his hero the Commander-in-Chief
Saying, "Tell me great hero, but please make it brief
Is there a hole for me to get sick in?"
The Commander-in-Chief answers him while chasing a fly
Saying, "Death to all those who would whimper and cry"
And dropping a bar bell he points to the sky
Saying, "The sun's not yellow it's chicken.
Mama's in the fact'ry
She ain't got no shoes
Daddy's in the alley
He's lookin' for food.
I'm in the kitchen
With the tombstone blues.
The king of the Philistines his soldiers to save
Put jawbones on their tombstones and flatters their graves
Puts the pied pipers in prison and fattens the slaves
Then sends them out to the jungle.
Gypsy Davey with a blowtorch he bums out their camps
With his faithful slave Pedro behind him he tramps
With a fantastic collection of stamps
To win friends and influence his uncle.
Mama's in the fact'ry
She ain't got no shoes
Daddy's in the alley
He's lookin' for food.
I'm in trouble
With the tombstone blues.
The geometry of innocent flesh on the bone
Causes Galileo's math book to get thrown
At Delilah who's sitting worthlessly alone
But the tears on her cheeks are from laughter.
Now I wish I could give Brother Bill his great thrill
I would set him in chains at the top of the hill
Then send out for some pillars and Cecil B. DeMille
He could die happily ever after.
Mama's in the fact'ry
She ain't got no shoes
Daddy's in the alley
He's lookin' for food
I'm in the kitchen
With the tombstone blues.
Where Ma Raney and Beethoven once unwrapped their bed roll
Tuba players now rehearse around the flagpole
And the National Bank at a profit sells road maps or the soul
To the old folks home and the college.
Now I wish I could write you a melody so plain
That could hold you dear lady from going insane
That could ease you and cool you and cease the pain
Of your useless and pointless knowledge
Mama's in the fact'ry
She ain't got no shoes
Daddy's in the alley
He's lookin' for food
I'm in the kitchen
With the tombstone blues.
Alright!
IT TAKES A LOT TO LAUGH, IT TAKES A TRAIN TO CRY
Well, I ride on a mailtrain, baby
Can’t buy a thrill
Well, I’ve been up all night,
Leanin’ on the window sill
Well, if I die
On top of the hill
And if I don’t make it
You know my baby will
Don’t the moon look good, mama
Shinin’ through the trees?
Don’t the brakeman look good, mama
Flagging down the “Double E?”
Don’t the sun look good
Goin’ down over the sea?
But don’t my gal look fine
When she’s comin’ after me?
Now the wintertime is coming
The windows are filled with frost
I went to tell everybody
But I could not get across
Well, I wanna be your lover, baby
I don’t wanna be your boss
Don’t say I never warned you
When your train gets lost
FROM A BUICK 6
I got this graveyard woman, you know she keeps my kids
But my soulful mama, you know she keeps me hid
She’s a junkyard angel and she always gives me bread
Well, if I go down dyin’, you know she bound to put a blanket on my bed.
Well, when the pipeline gets broken and I’m lost on the river bridge
I’m all cracked up on the highway and in the water’s edge
Then she comes down the thruway ready to sew me up with a thread
Well, if I go down dyin’, you know she bound to put a blanket on my bed.
Well, she don’t make me nervous, she don’t talk too much
She walks like Bo Diddley and she don’t need no crutch
She keeps this four-ten all loaded with lead
Well, if I go down dyin’, you know she bound to put a blanket on my bed.
Well, you know I need a steam shovel mama to keep away the dead
I need a dump truck mama to unload my head
She brings me everything and more, and just like I said
Well, if I go down dyin’, you know she bound to put a blanket on my bed.
BALLAD OF A THIN MAN
You walk into the room
With your pencil in your hand
You see somebody naked and you say, “Who is that man?”
You try so hard but you don’t understand
Just what you’ll say when you get home
Because something is happening here
But you don’t know what it is
Do you, Mister Jones?
You raise up your head
And you ask, “Is this where it is?”
And somebody points to you and says “It’s his”
And you say, “What’s mine?” and somebody else says, “Where what is?”
And you say, “Oh my God am I here all alone?”
But something is happening here
But you don’t know what it is
Do you, Mister Jones?
You hand in your ticket
And you go watch the geek
Who immediately walks up to you
When he hears you speak
And says, “How does it feel to be such a freak?”
And you say, “Impossible” as he hands you a bone
And something is happening here
But you don’t know what it is
Do you, Mister Jones?
You have many contacts
Among the lumberjacks
To get you facts when someone attacks your imagination
But nobody has any respect
Anyway they already expect you
To all give a check to tax-deductible charity organizations
Aaaw! You’ve been with the professors
And they’ve all liked your looks
with great lawyers you have discussed lepers and crooks
You’ve been through all of F. Scott Fitzgerald’s books
You’re very well read It’s well known
But something is happening here
And you don’t know what it is
Do you, Mister Jones?
Well, the sword swallower, he comes up to you
And then he kneels
He crosses himself and then he clicks his high heels
And without further notice he asks you how it feels
And he says, “Here is your throat back
Thanks for the loan”
And you look something is happening but you don’t know what it is
Do you, Mister Jones?
Now you see this one-eyed midget
Shouting the word “NOW”
And you say, “For what reason?”
And he says, “HOW?”
And you say, “What does this mean?”
And he screams back, “You’re a cow
Give me some milk or else go home”
And you know something is happening
But you don’t know what it is
Do you, Mister Jones?
Well, you walk into the room
Like a camel and then you frown
You put your eyes in your pocket
And your nose on the ground
There ought to be a law
Against you comin’ around
You should be made to wear earphones
Does something is happening
And you don’t know what it is
Do you, Mister Jones?
QUEEN JANE APPROXIMATELY
When your mother sends back all your invitations
And your father to your sister he explains
That you’re tired of yourself and all of your creations
Won’t you come see me, Queen Jane?
Won’t you come see me, Queen Jane?
Now when all of the flower ladies want back what they have lent you
And the smell of their roses does not remain
And all of your children start to resent you
Won’t you come see me, Queen Jane?
Won’t you come see me, Queen Jane?
Now when all the clowns that you have commissioned
Have died in battle or in vain
And you’re sick of all this repetition
Won’t you come see me, Queen Jane?
Won’t you come see me, Queen Jane?
When all of your advisers heave their plastic
At your feet to convince you of your pain
Trying to prove that your conclusions should be more drastic
Won’t you come see me, Queen Jane?
Won’t you come see me, Queen Jane?
Now when all of the bandits that you turned your other cheek to
All lay down their bandanas and complain
And you want somebody you don’t have to speak to
Won’t you come see me, Queen Jane?
Won’t you come see me, Queen Jane?
HIGHWAY 61 REVISITED
Oh God said to Abraham, “Kill me a son”
Abe says, “Man, you must be puttin’ me on”
God say, “No.” Abe say, “What?”
God say, “You can do what you want Abe, but
The next time you see me comin’ you better run”
Well Abe says, “Where do you want this killin’ done?”
God says, “Out on Highway 61”
Well Georgia Sam he had a bloody nose
Welfare Department they wouldn’t give him no clothes
He asked poor Howard “Where can I go?”
Howard said “There’s only one place I know”
Sam said t”Tll me quick man I got to run”
Ol’ Howard just pointed with his gun
And said “That way down on Highway 61”
Well Mack the Finger said to Louie the King
“I got forty red, white and blue shoestrings
And a thousand telephones that don’t ring
Do you know where I can get rid of these things?”
And Louie the King said “Let me think for a minute son”
And he said “Yes I think it can be easily done
Just take everything down to Highway 61”
Now the fifth daughter on the twelfth night
Told the first father that things weren’t right
“My complexion” she said “is much too white”
He said “Come here and step into the light”, he says “Hmm you’re right
Let me tell the second mother this has been done”
But the second mother was with the seventh son
And they were both out on Highway 61
Now the rovin’ gambler he was very bored
He was tryin’ to create a next world war
He found a promoter who nearly fell off the floor
He said “I never engaged in this kind of thing before
But yes I think it can be very easily done
We’ll just put some bleachers out in the sun
And have it on Highway 61”
JUST LIKE TOM THUMB'S BLUES
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 outta you
Now if you see Saint Annie please tell her thanks a lot
I cannot move my fingers are all in a knot
I don’t have the strength to get up and take another shot
And my best friend, my 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 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 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 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 on me there was nobody even there to bluff
I’m going back to New York City I do believe I’ve had enough
DESOLATION ROW
They’re selling postcards of the hanging
They’re painting the passports brown
The beauty parlor is filled with sailors
The circus is in town
Here comes the blind commissioner
They’ve got him in a trance
One hand is tied to the tight-rope walker
The other is 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
“It takes one to know one,” she smiles
And puts her hands in her back pockets
Bette Davis style
And in comes Romeo, he’s moaning
“You belong to me I believe”
And someone says, “You’re in the wrong place my friend
You better leave”
And the only sound that’s left
After the ambulances go
Is Cinderella sweeping up
On Desolation Row
Now the moon is almost hidden
The stars are beginning to hide
The fortune-telling lady
Has even taken all her things inside
All except for Cain and Abel
And the hunchback of Notre Dame
Everybody is making love
Or else expecting rain
And the Good Samaritan, he’s dressing
He’s getting ready for the show
He’s going to the carnival tonight
On Desolation Row
Ophelia, she’s ’neath the window
For her I feel so afraid
On her twenty-second birthday
She already is an old maid
To her, death is quite romantic
She wears an iron vest
Her profession’s her religion
Her sin is her lifelessness
And though her eyes are fixed upon
Noah’s great rainbow
She spends her time peeking
Into Desolation Row
Einstein, disguised as Robin Hood
With his memories in a trunk
Passed this way an hour ago
With his friend, a jealous monk
Now he looked so immaculately frightful
And as he bummed a cigarette
Then he went off sniffing drainpipes
And reciting the alphabet
You would not think to look at him
But he was famous long ago
For playing the electric violin
On Desolation Row
Dr. Filth, he keeps his world
Inside of a leather cup
But all his sexless patients
They’re trying to blow it up
Now his nurse, some local loser
She’s in charge of the cyanide hole
And she also keeps the cards that read
“Have Mercy on his soul”
They all play on pennywhistles
You can hear them blow
If you lean your head out far enough
From Desolation Row
Across the street they’ve nailed the curtains
They’re getting ready for the feast
The Phantom of the Opera
In a perfect image of a priest
They’re spoonfeeding Casanova
To get him to feel more assured
Then they’ll kill him with self-confidence
After poisoning him with words
And the Phantom’s shouting to skinny girls
“Get outa here If you don’t know
Casanova is just being punished for going
To Desolation Row”
At midnight all the agents
And the superhuman crew
Come out and round up everyone
That knows more than they do
Then they bring them 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 nobody is escaping
To Desolation Row
Praise be to Nero’s Neptune
The Titanic sails at dawn
Everybody’s shouting
“Which side are you on?”
And Ezra Pound and T. S. Eliot
Fighting in the captain’s tower
While calypso singers laugh at them
And fishermen hold flowers
Between the windows of the sea
Where lovely mermaids flow
And nobody has to think too much
About Desolation Row
Yes, I received your letter yesterday
About the time the doorknob broke
When you asked me how I was doing
Was that some kind of joke?
All these people that you mention
Yes, I know them, they’re quite lame
I had to rearrange their faces
And give them all another name
Right now I can’t read too good
Don’t send me no more letters, no
Not unless you mail them
From Desolation Row
2. Tombstone Blues
3. It Takes A Lot To Laugh, It Takes A Train To Cry
4. From A Buick 6
5. Ballad Of A Thin Man
6. Queen Jane Approximately
7. Highway 61 Revisited
8. Just Like Tom Thumb's Blues
9. Desolation Row
LIKE A ROLLING STONES
Once upon a time you dressed so fine,
Threw the bums a dime in your prime, didn't you?
People'd call, say, "Beware doll, you're bound to fall"
You thought they were all a’kiddin' you.
You used to laugh about
Everybody that was hangin' out.
Now you don't talk so loud,
Now you don't seem so proud,
About having to be scrounging your next meal.
How does it feel?
How does it feel?
To be without a home?
Like a complete unknown?
Like a rolling stone?
Aw, you've gone to the finest school all right, Miss Lonely,
But you know you only used to get “juiced” in it.
Nobody’s ever taught you how to live out on the street,
And now you're gonna have to get used to it.
You say you never compromise
With a mystery tramp, but now you realize
He's not selling any alibis
As you stare into the vacuum of his eyes
And say, “Do you want to make a deal?
How does it feel?
How does it feel?
To be on your own?
With no direction home?
A complete unknown?
Like a rolling stone?
Aw, you never turned around to see the frowns
On the jugglers and the clowns
When they all did tricks for you.
You never understood that it ain't no good,
You shouldn't let other people get your kicks for you.
You used to ride on a chrome horse with your diplomat
Who carried on his shoulder a Siamese cat.
Ain't it hard when you discover that
He really wasn't where it's at
After he took from you everything he could steal?
How does it feel?
How does it feel?
To have ya’ on your own?
With no direction home?
Like a complete unknown?
Like a rolling stone?
Aw, princess on the steeple and all the pretty people
They're all drinkin', thinkin' that they’ve got it made.
Exchanging all precious gifts,
But you'd better take your diamond ring, you'd better pawn it babe.
You used to be so amused
At Napoleon in rags and the language that he used.
Go to him now, he calls you, you can't refuse.
When you ain’t got nothing, you’ve got nothing to lose
You're invisible now, you’ve got no secrets to conceal.
How does it feel?
Aw, how does it feel?
To be on your own?
With no direction home?
Like a complete unknown?
Like a rolling stone?
TOMBSTONE BLUES
The sweet pretty things are in bed now of course
The city fathers they're trying to endorse
The reincarnation of Paul Revere's horse
But the town has no need to be nervous.
The ghost of Belle Star she hands down her wits
To Jezebel the nun she violently knits
A bald wig for Jack the Ripper who sits
At the head of the chamber of commerce.
Mama's in the fact'ry
She ain't got no shoes
Daddy's in the alley
He's lookin' for food.
I'm in the kitchen
With the tombstone blues.
The hysterical bride in the penny arcade
Screaming she moans, "I've just been made"
Then sends out for the doctor who pulls down the shade
Says, "My advice is to not let the boys in".
Now the medicine man comes and he shuffles inside
He walks with a swagger and he says to be bride
"Stop all this weeping, swallow your pride
You will not die, it's not poison".
Mama's in the fact'ry
She ain't got no shoes
Daddy's in the alley
He's lookin' for food.
I'm in the kitchen
With the tombstone blues.
Well, John the Baptist after torturing a thief
Looks up at his hero the Commander-in-Chief
Saying, "Tell me great hero, but please make it brief
Is there a hole for me to get sick in?"
The Commander-in-Chief answers him while chasing a fly
Saying, "Death to all those who would whimper and cry"
And dropping a bar bell he points to the sky
Saying, "The sun's not yellow it's chicken.
Mama's in the fact'ry
She ain't got no shoes
Daddy's in the alley
He's lookin' for food.
I'm in the kitchen
With the tombstone blues.
The king of the Philistines his soldiers to save
Put jawbones on their tombstones and flatters their graves
Puts the pied pipers in prison and fattens the slaves
Then sends them out to the jungle.
Gypsy Davey with a blowtorch he bums out their camps
With his faithful slave Pedro behind him he tramps
With a fantastic collection of stamps
To win friends and influence his uncle.
Mama's in the fact'ry
She ain't got no shoes
Daddy's in the alley
He's lookin' for food.
I'm in trouble
With the tombstone blues.
The geometry of innocent flesh on the bone
Causes Galileo's math book to get thrown
At Delilah who's sitting worthlessly alone
But the tears on her cheeks are from laughter.
Now I wish I could give Brother Bill his great thrill
I would set him in chains at the top of the hill
Then send out for some pillars and Cecil B. DeMille
He could die happily ever after.
Mama's in the fact'ry
She ain't got no shoes
Daddy's in the alley
He's lookin' for food
I'm in the kitchen
With the tombstone blues.
Where Ma Raney and Beethoven once unwrapped their bed roll
Tuba players now rehearse around the flagpole
And the National Bank at a profit sells road maps or the soul
To the old folks home and the college.
Now I wish I could write you a melody so plain
That could hold you dear lady from going insane
That could ease you and cool you and cease the pain
Of your useless and pointless knowledge
Mama's in the fact'ry
She ain't got no shoes
Daddy's in the alley
He's lookin' for food
I'm in the kitchen
With the tombstone blues.
Alright!
IT TAKES A LOT TO LAUGH, IT TAKES A TRAIN TO CRY
Well, I ride on a mailtrain, baby
Can’t buy a thrill
Well, I’ve been up all night,
Leanin’ on the window sill
Well, if I die
On top of the hill
And if I don’t make it
You know my baby will
Don’t the moon look good, mama
Shinin’ through the trees?
Don’t the brakeman look good, mama
Flagging down the “Double E?”
Don’t the sun look good
Goin’ down over the sea?
But don’t my gal look fine
When she’s comin’ after me?
Now the wintertime is coming
The windows are filled with frost
I went to tell everybody
But I could not get across
Well, I wanna be your lover, baby
I don’t wanna be your boss
Don’t say I never warned you
When your train gets lost
FROM A BUICK 6
I got this graveyard woman, you know she keeps my kids
But my soulful mama, you know she keeps me hid
She’s a junkyard angel and she always gives me bread
Well, if I go down dyin’, you know she bound to put a blanket on my bed.
Well, when the pipeline gets broken and I’m lost on the river bridge
I’m all cracked up on the highway and in the water’s edge
Then she comes down the thruway ready to sew me up with a thread
Well, if I go down dyin’, you know she bound to put a blanket on my bed.
Well, she don’t make me nervous, she don’t talk too much
She walks like Bo Diddley and she don’t need no crutch
She keeps this four-ten all loaded with lead
Well, if I go down dyin’, you know she bound to put a blanket on my bed.
Well, you know I need a steam shovel mama to keep away the dead
I need a dump truck mama to unload my head
She brings me everything and more, and just like I said
Well, if I go down dyin’, you know she bound to put a blanket on my bed.
BALLAD OF A THIN MAN
You walk into the room
With your pencil in your hand
You see somebody naked and you say, “Who is that man?”
You try so hard but you don’t understand
Just what you’ll say when you get home
Because something is happening here
But you don’t know what it is
Do you, Mister Jones?
You raise up your head
And you ask, “Is this where it is?”
And somebody points to you and says “It’s his”
And you say, “What’s mine?” and somebody else says, “Where what is?”
And you say, “Oh my God am I here all alone?”
But something is happening here
But you don’t know what it is
Do you, Mister Jones?
You hand in your ticket
And you go watch the geek
Who immediately walks up to you
When he hears you speak
And says, “How does it feel to be such a freak?”
And you say, “Impossible” as he hands you a bone
And something is happening here
But you don’t know what it is
Do you, Mister Jones?
You have many contacts
Among the lumberjacks
To get you facts when someone attacks your imagination
But nobody has any respect
Anyway they already expect you
To all give a check to tax-deductible charity organizations
Aaaw! You’ve been with the professors
And they’ve all liked your looks
with great lawyers you have discussed lepers and crooks
You’ve been through all of F. Scott Fitzgerald’s books
You’re very well read It’s well known
But something is happening here
And you don’t know what it is
Do you, Mister Jones?
Well, the sword swallower, he comes up to you
And then he kneels
He crosses himself and then he clicks his high heels
And without further notice he asks you how it feels
And he says, “Here is your throat back
Thanks for the loan”
And you look something is happening but you don’t know what it is
Do you, Mister Jones?
Now you see this one-eyed midget
Shouting the word “NOW”
And you say, “For what reason?”
And he says, “HOW?”
And you say, “What does this mean?”
And he screams back, “You’re a cow
Give me some milk or else go home”
And you know something is happening
But you don’t know what it is
Do you, Mister Jones?
Well, you walk into the room
Like a camel and then you frown
You put your eyes in your pocket
And your nose on the ground
There ought to be a law
Against you comin’ around
You should be made to wear earphones
Does something is happening
And you don’t know what it is
Do you, Mister Jones?
QUEEN JANE APPROXIMATELY
When your mother sends back all your invitations
And your father to your sister he explains
That you’re tired of yourself and all of your creations
Won’t you come see me, Queen Jane?
Won’t you come see me, Queen Jane?
Now when all of the flower ladies want back what they have lent you
And the smell of their roses does not remain
And all of your children start to resent you
Won’t you come see me, Queen Jane?
Won’t you come see me, Queen Jane?
Now when all the clowns that you have commissioned
Have died in battle or in vain
And you’re sick of all this repetition
Won’t you come see me, Queen Jane?
Won’t you come see me, Queen Jane?
When all of your advisers heave their plastic
At your feet to convince you of your pain
Trying to prove that your conclusions should be more drastic
Won’t you come see me, Queen Jane?
Won’t you come see me, Queen Jane?
Now when all of the bandits that you turned your other cheek to
All lay down their bandanas and complain
And you want somebody you don’t have to speak to
Won’t you come see me, Queen Jane?
Won’t you come see me, Queen Jane?
HIGHWAY 61 REVISITED
Oh God said to Abraham, “Kill me a son”
Abe says, “Man, you must be puttin’ me on”
God say, “No.” Abe say, “What?”
God say, “You can do what you want Abe, but
The next time you see me comin’ you better run”
Well Abe says, “Where do you want this killin’ done?”
God says, “Out on Highway 61”
Well Georgia Sam he had a bloody nose
Welfare Department they wouldn’t give him no clothes
He asked poor Howard “Where can I go?”
Howard said “There’s only one place I know”
Sam said t”Tll me quick man I got to run”
Ol’ Howard just pointed with his gun
And said “That way down on Highway 61”
Well Mack the Finger said to Louie the King
“I got forty red, white and blue shoestrings
And a thousand telephones that don’t ring
Do you know where I can get rid of these things?”
And Louie the King said “Let me think for a minute son”
And he said “Yes I think it can be easily done
Just take everything down to Highway 61”
Now the fifth daughter on the twelfth night
Told the first father that things weren’t right
“My complexion” she said “is much too white”
He said “Come here and step into the light”, he says “Hmm you’re right
Let me tell the second mother this has been done”
But the second mother was with the seventh son
And they were both out on Highway 61
Now the rovin’ gambler he was very bored
He was tryin’ to create a next world war
He found a promoter who nearly fell off the floor
He said “I never engaged in this kind of thing before
But yes I think it can be very easily done
We’ll just put some bleachers out in the sun
And have it on Highway 61”
JUST LIKE TOM THUMB'S BLUES
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 outta you
Now if you see Saint Annie please tell her thanks a lot
I cannot move my fingers are all in a knot
I don’t have the strength to get up and take another shot
And my best friend, my 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 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 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 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 on me there was nobody even there to bluff
I’m going back to New York City I do believe I’ve had enough
DESOLATION ROW
They’re selling postcards of the hanging
They’re painting the passports brown
The beauty parlor is filled with sailors
The circus is in town
Here comes the blind commissioner
They’ve got him in a trance
One hand is tied to the tight-rope walker
The other is 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
“It takes one to know one,” she smiles
And puts her hands in her back pockets
Bette Davis style
And in comes Romeo, he’s moaning
“You belong to me I believe”
And someone says, “You’re in the wrong place my friend
You better leave”
And the only sound that’s left
After the ambulances go
Is Cinderella sweeping up
On Desolation Row
Now the moon is almost hidden
The stars are beginning to hide
The fortune-telling lady
Has even taken all her things inside
All except for Cain and Abel
And the hunchback of Notre Dame
Everybody is making love
Or else expecting rain
And the Good Samaritan, he’s dressing
He’s getting ready for the show
He’s going to the carnival tonight
On Desolation Row
Ophelia, she’s ’neath the window
For her I feel so afraid
On her twenty-second birthday
She already is an old maid
To her, death is quite romantic
She wears an iron vest
Her profession’s her religion
Her sin is her lifelessness
And though her eyes are fixed upon
Noah’s great rainbow
She spends her time peeking
Into Desolation Row
Einstein, disguised as Robin Hood
With his memories in a trunk
Passed this way an hour ago
With his friend, a jealous monk
Now he looked so immaculately frightful
And as he bummed a cigarette
Then he went off sniffing drainpipes
And reciting the alphabet
You would not think to look at him
But he was famous long ago
For playing the electric violin
On Desolation Row
Dr. Filth, he keeps his world
Inside of a leather cup
But all his sexless patients
They’re trying to blow it up
Now his nurse, some local loser
She’s in charge of the cyanide hole
And she also keeps the cards that read
“Have Mercy on his soul”
They all play on pennywhistles
You can hear them blow
If you lean your head out far enough
From Desolation Row
Across the street they’ve nailed the curtains
They’re getting ready for the feast
The Phantom of the Opera
In a perfect image of a priest
They’re spoonfeeding Casanova
To get him to feel more assured
Then they’ll kill him with self-confidence
After poisoning him with words
And the Phantom’s shouting to skinny girls
“Get outa here If you don’t know
Casanova is just being punished for going
To Desolation Row”
At midnight all the agents
And the superhuman crew
Come out and round up everyone
That knows more than they do
Then they bring them 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 nobody is escaping
To Desolation Row
Praise be to Nero’s Neptune
The Titanic sails at dawn
Everybody’s shouting
“Which side are you on?”
And Ezra Pound and T. S. Eliot
Fighting in the captain’s tower
While calypso singers laugh at them
And fishermen hold flowers
Between the windows of the sea
Where lovely mermaids flow
And nobody has to think too much
About Desolation Row
Yes, I received your letter yesterday
About the time the doorknob broke
When you asked me how I was doing
Was that some kind of joke?
All these people that you mention
Yes, I know them, they’re quite lame
I had to rearrange their faces
And give them all another name
Right now I can’t read too good
Don’t send me no more letters, no
Not unless you mail them
From Desolation Row
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