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Lyrics for Desolation Row by Bob Dylan:



Artist:Bob Dylan
No album artwork found
Album:Highway 61 Revisited
Track:Desolation Row
 
Date Added:18/10/2007
Views:171
 
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 fortunetelling 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 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
He looked so immaculately frightful
As he bummed a cigarette
Then 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 penny whistles
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
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"

Now 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
And 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 door knob broke)
When you asked 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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