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    • Тексты песен / B / Bob Dylan / Desolation Row

    Текст песни Bob Dylan - Desolation Row

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    На этой странице находится текст песни Bob Dylan - Desolation Row, а также перевод песни и видео или клип.
    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 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 fortunetelling 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.
    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 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
    He looked so immaculately frightful
    As he bummed a cigarette
    Then he went 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 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're spoonfeeding 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 outa 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.

    They 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 door knob 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
    Dont send me no more letters no
    Not unless you mail them
    From D

    Смотрите также:

    Все тексты Bob Dylan >>>
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