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Текст песни Bob Dylan - Desolation Row

Bob Dylan - Desolation Row слова песни




Theyre selling postcards of the hangingTheyre painting the passports brownThe beauty parlor is filled with sailorsThe circus is in townHere comes the blind commissionerTheyve got him in a tranceOne hand is tied to the tight-rope walkerThe other is in his pantsAnd the riot squad theyre restlessThey need somewhere to goAs lady and I look out tonightFrom desolation rowCinderella, she seems so easy"it takes one to know one," she smilesAnd puts her hands in her back pocketsBette davis styleAnd in comes romeo, hes moaning"you belong to me I believe"And someone says," youre in the wrong place, my friendYou better leave"And the only sound thats leftAfter the ambulances goIs cinderella sweeping upOn desolation rowNow the moon is almost hiddenThe stars are beginning to hideThe fortunetelling ladyHas even taken all her things insideAll except for cain and abelAnd the hunchback of notre dameEverybody is making loveOr else expecting rainAnd the good samaritan, hes dressingHes getting ready for the showHes going to the carnival tonightOn desolation rowNow ophelia, shes neath the windowFor her I feel so afraidOn her twenty-second birthdayShe already is an old maidTo her, death is quite romanticShe wears an iron vestHer professions her religionHer sin is her lifelessnessAnd though her eyes are fixed uponNoahs great rainbowShe spends her time peekingInto desolation rowEinstein, disguised as robin hoodWith his memories in a trunkPassed this way an hour agoWith his friend, a jealous monkHe looked so immaculately frightfulAs he bummed a cigaretteThen he went off sniffing drainpipesAnd reciting the alphabetNow you would not think to look at himBut he was famous long agoFor playing the electric violinOn desolation rowDr. filth, he keeps his worldInside of a leather cupBut all his sexless patientsTheyre trying to blow it upNow his nurse, some local loserShes in charge of the cyanide holeAnd she also keeps the cards that read"have mercy on his soul"They all play on penny whistlesYou can hear them blowIf you lean your head out far enoughFrom desolation rowAcross the street theyve nailed the curtainsTheyre getting ready for the feastThe phantom of the operaA perfect image of a priestTheyre spoonfeeding casanovaTo get him to feel more assuredThen theyll kill him with self-confidenceAfter poisoning him with wordsAnd the phantoms shouting to skinny girls"get outa here if you dont knowCasanova is just being punished for goingTo desolation row"Now at midnight all the agentsAnd the superhuman crewCome out and round up everyoneThat knows more than they doThen they bring them to the factoryWhere the heart-attack machineIs strapped across their shouldersAnd then the keroseneIs brought down from the castlesBy insurance men who goCheck to see that nobody is escapingTo desolation rowPraise be to neros neptuneThe titanic sails at dawnAnd everybodys shouting"which side are you on? "And ezra pound and t. s. eliotFighting in the captains towerWhile calypso singers laugh at themAnd fishermen hold flowersBetween the windows of the seaWhere lovely mermaids flowAnd nobody has to think too muchAbout desolation rowYes, I received your letter yesterday(about the time the door knob broke)When you asked how I was doingWas that some kind of joke? All these people that you mentionYes, I know them, theyre quite lameI had to rearrange their facesAnd give them all another nameRight now I cant read too goodDont send me no more letters noNot unless you mail themFrom desolation row

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