I started out on burgundy

But soon hit the harder stuff

My friends all said that they'd stand beside me

After the gun run 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

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 howling at the moon

When you're lost in the rain in Juarez

And it's Eastertime too

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 outa you

Up on Housing Project Hill

It's either fortune or fame

You must pick up one or the other

Though 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 here

And what they expect the same

I started out on burgundy

But soon hit the harder stuff

My friends all said that they'd stand beside me

After the gun run 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

I'm going back to New York City

I do believe I've had enough