Robyn Hitchcock Follow

And your gravity fails, and negativity don't pull you through
Don't put on any airs, when you're down on Rue Morgue avenue
They got some hungry women there, and they really make a mess

Out of you, now if you see Saint Annie, please tell her thanks a lot
I cannot move my fingers are all in a knot
I don't have the strength, to get up and take another shot
And my best friend, my doctor, won't even say what it is I've got

Sweet Melinda, the peasants call her the Goddess of gloom
She speaks good English, and she invites you up into her room
And you're so kind, and careful not to go to her too soon
And she steals your voice, and leaves you screaming at the moon

Up on housing project hill, it's either fortune or fame
You must pick one or the other
Neither of them are to be what they claim
If you're lookin' to get silly, you better go back to from where you came

Because the cops don't need you, and man they expect the same
Now all the authorities, they just stand around and boast
How they blackmailed the sergeant at arms
Into leaving, leaving, leaving his post

And picking up Angel
Who just arrived here from the coast
Who looked so fine at first
But left like a just like a ghost

I started out on burgundy, soon hit the harder stuff
Everybody said they'd stand behind me, when the game got rough
But the joke was on me, there was nobody even there to call my bluff
I'm going back to New York City, I do believe I've had enough

And your gravity fails, and negativity don't pull you through
Don't put on any airs, when you're down on Rue Morgue avenue