Well... I took my Tom Thumb's Blues*
down to Desolation Row.*
I ordered up a pitcher of misery
and, a double shot of woe,
down at Charlie's Seven Roses,
then talked up a ho. And, went off
to set the night on fire,
with the blazing flames of lust that
whiskey and cocaine can inspire;
cause she was as war weary as me,
we were both to tired to feign desire.
We rolled and wrestled til we were raw.
We talked about the things we saw
when we first lost the fairy tale glasses
that covered our eyes in innocent youth.
Never did we speak about how bleak
it had been to discover the truth
that this uncouth and ugly world
was a frigid fight filled lonely place
where, pain and poison and disgrace
are perpetually puked up in your face.
Well nothing to risk, nothing to gain
neither had reputation or pride.
So, we talked about the hidden pain;
after all there was nothing to lose
Another snort; another shot of booze
and we laid down, first side by side,
with no place to hide, and waited
back to back as the sun came up
silent and secret tears we cried.
Mourning in morning, for memories
of hopes that had been hijacked and
all those good dreams that had died.
*song titles by Bob Dylan.
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