Desolation Row - Live at Free Trade Hall, Manchester, UK - May 17, 1966

They're selling postcards of the hanging
 They're painting the passports brown
 And beauty parlor's 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 tightrope 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
 Puts her hands in her back pocket
 Bette Davis style
 In comes Romeo, he's moaning
 "You belong to me, I believe"
 Someone turns and says, "You're in the wrong room, my friend
 You'd better hurry up and 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
 Everyone 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 22nd birthday
 She already is an old maid
 To her, death is quite romantic
 She wears an ironed vest
 Her profession is 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
 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
 Get him to feel more assured
 Then they'll kill him with self-confidence
 After poisoning him with words
 And the phantom shouting to skinny girls
 "Get out of here if you don't know"
 Casanova he's just being punished
 For goin' to desolation row
 Now at midnight all the agents
 And the super-human crew
 Come out and round up everyone
 That knows more than they do
 And they bring them to the factory
 Where their 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's escaping
 Desolation row
 Yes, I received your letter yesterday
 'Bout the time the doorknob broke
 When you asked me how I was doing
 Was that some kind of joke?
 All these people that you mentioned
 Yes, I know them, they are 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