Tablature desolationrow - Bob Dylan

          



 # From: cctr128@cantua.canterbury.ac.nz (Mr K Osborn)

  {t:Desolation Row}

  {st:Bob Dylan}

  {columns:2}

  

  [D]They're selling postcards of the hanging.

  They're p[G]ainting the passports [D]brown.

  The [A7]beauty parlour's filled with sailors.

  [G] The circus is in town[D].

  Here comes the blind commissoner.

  They've [G]got him in a [D]trance.

  One [A7]hand's tied to the tightrope walker.

  [G] The other is in his [D]pants.

  And the [G]riot squad they're restless

  They [D]need some where to go.

  As [D]lady and I look [A7]out tonight

  [G] On Desolation [D]Row.

  

  Cinderella she seem so easy.

  It takes on to know one she smiles.

  Then puts her hand in her back pocket,

  Betty davis style.

  Then in comes Romeo he's moaning.

  You Belong to me I believe.

  And someone says your 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 fortune telling lady

  Has already taken all her things inside.

  All except for Cane and Able

  And the Hunch Back of Notre Dame

  Everyone is making love

  Or else expecting rain

  And the good samaritan he's dressing

  He's gettin ready for the show.

  He's going to the carinval

  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 frightful

  As he bummed a cigarette

  Then went off sniffing drain pipes

  And reciting the alphabet.

  No you would not think to look at him

  That he was famous long ago

  For playing electric violin

  On Desolation Row.

  {column_break}

  Doctor filth he keeps his word

  Inside a leather cup

  But all his sexless patients

  Are trying to blow it up.

  Now his nurse a local looser

  She's in charge of the cyanaide 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 gettin ready for the feast

  The phantom of the opera

  A perfect image of a priest

  They're spoon feedin Casonova

  To get him to feel more assured

  Then they'll killed him with self confidence

  After poisoning him with words

  And the phantom shouting to skinning girls

  Get outta her don't you know

  Casanova is just being punished

  For going to Desolation Row.

  

  Now at midnight all the agents

  And the superhuman crews

  Round up everyone

  That knows more than they do.

  Then they bring them to the factory

  Where the heart attack machines

  Is strapped across their shoulders

  And then the kerosene

  Is brought down from the castles

  By insurance men that go

  Check to see that nobody is escaping

  To Desolation Row

  

  Praise be to Nero's Neptune

  The Titanic sails at dawn

  And everybody shouting

  Which side are you on

  And Ezra Pound and T.S. Eliot

  Fighting in the captains tower

  While calypso signers 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

  Was that some kind of joke.

  All those 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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 Desolationrow, de Bob dylan 

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