If you don't believe there's a price for this sweet paradise, just remind me to show you the scars.

Maybe someday you will understand, that something for nothing is everybody's plan.

I change during the course of a day. I wake and I'm one person, and when I go to sleep I know for certain I'm somebody else.

Fearing not that I'd become my enemy In the instant that I preach

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.

Some are masters of illusions, some are ministers of trade, all under the same delusion, all their beds unmade.

You need something to open up a new door, to show you something you seen before but overlooked a hundred times or more