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Lyrics for Desolation Row by Grateful Dead:
| | | Artist: | Grateful Dead |
| | Album: | Miscellaneous | | Track: | Desolation Row | | | | Date Added: | 18/10/2007 | | Views: | 95 | | | | Lyrics: | 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
Now 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
spend 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
He looked
so immaculately frightful as he bummed a cigarette
As he went off sniffing drainpipes and
reciting the alphabet
Now 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 the penny whistles you can hear
then blow
If you lean your head out far enough
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