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 outa 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 steals your voice
And leaves you howling at the moon

Up on Housing Project Hill
It's either fortune or fame
You must pick up 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 here
And man they expect the same

I started out on burgundy
But soon hit the harder stuff
Everybody said they'd stand behind me
When the game got rough
But it was all a big joke
There was nobody even there to bluff

I'm going back to New York City
I do believe I've had enough

I'm going back to New York City
I do believe I've had enough

I'm going back to New York City
I do believe I've had enough