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 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

Right now I can't read too good
Don't send me no more letters no
Not unless you got a mail
From the Desolation Row