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Chip

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About Chip

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  1. 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'd 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 fortune telling 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

    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
    Now he looked so immaculately frightful as he bummed a cigarette
    And he when off sniffing drainpipes and reciting the alphabet
    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 the 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 in a perfect image of a priest
    They are spoon feeding 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 outta here if you don't know"
    Casanova is just being punished for going to Desolation Row"

    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
    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 doorknob broke
    When you asked me 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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