segunda-feira, 24 de março de 2008


When you're lost in the rain in Juarez
When it's Easter time too
An' your gravity fails
An' negativity don't pull you thru
Don't put on any airs
When you're down on Rue Morgue Avenue
They got some hungry women there
An' they really make a mess outta 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 an' take another shot
An' 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
She invites you up into her room
An' you're so kind
An' careful not to go to her too soon
An' she takes your voice
An' leaves you howlin' at the moon.

Up on housin' project hill
It's either fortune or fame
You must pick one or the other
Tho 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
An' man they expect the same.

Now all the authorities
They just stand around an' boast
How they blackmailed the sergeant at arms
Into leavin' his post
An' pickin' up Angel who
Just arrived here from the coast
Who looked so fine at first
But left lookin' just like a ghost.

I started out on burgundy
But soon hit the harder stuff
Everybody said they'd stand behind me
When the game got rough
But the joke was on me
There was nobody even there to bluff
I'm goin' back to New York city
I do believe I've had enough.

(Ou melhor, pensa o Reboliço: assim, que é como manda o chefe.)