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They're selling postcards of the hanging,
They're painting the past-ports brown,
The beauty parlor's filled with sailors,
The circus is in town
Here comes the blind commisioner, they've got him in a trance
One hand is tied to the tight-rope walker, the other is in his pants
The riot squad is restless, they need somewhere to go,
As lady and I look out tonight,
On 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 some says, "Your in the wrong place my friend, you'd better leave"
And the only sound thats left,
After the ambulances go,
Is Cinderella sweeping up,
On Desolation Row

Now the moon is almost hidden,
The stars are beggining to hide,
The fortone telling lady,
has even taken all her things inside,
All except for Cain and Abel,
And the hunchback of Notre Dame,
Everyone 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 weards an iron vest,
Her profession's her religion,
Her sin is her lifelessness,
And though her eyes are fixed upon
Noahs 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 ciggarette,
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 the penny whistles
You can hear them blow,
If you stick your head out far enough,
On 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 Cassanova
To get him feeling more assured,
Then they'll kill him with self-confidence,
After poisoning him with words

And the Phantoms shouting to skinny girls,
"Get Outta 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 keronse
Is brought down from the castles
By insurance men who go
Check to see that no-one 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 captains 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
























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