Sad - Eyed Lady Of The Lowlands Lyrics - Blonde On Blonde - Bob Dylan

With your mercury mouth in the missionary times 

And your eyes like smoke and your prayers like rhymes 

And your silver cross and your voice like chimes 

Oh, who do they think could bury you? 

With your pockets well-protected at last 

And your streetcar visions which you place on the grass 

And your flesh like silk and your face like glass 

Who could they get to carry you? 

Sad-eyed lady of the lowlands 

Where the sad-eyed prophet says that no man comes 

My warehouse eyes, my Arabian drums 

Should I put them by your gate, or sad-eyed lady, should I wait? 

With your sheets like metal and your belt like lace 

And your deck of cards missing the jack and the ace 

And your basement clothes and your hollow face 

Who among them did think he could outguess you? 

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With your silhouette when the sunlight dims 

Into your eyes where the moonlight swims 

And your matchbook songs and your gypsy hymns 

Who among them would try to impress you? 

Sad-eyed lady of the lowlands 

Where the sad-eyed prophet says that no man comes 

My warehouse eyes, my Arabian drums 

Should I put them by your gate, or sad-eyed lady, should I wait? 

The kings of Tyrus, with their convict list 

Are waiting in line for their geranium kiss 

And you wouldn't know it would have happened like this 

But who among them really wants just to kiss you? 

With your childhood flames on your midnight rug 

And your Spanish manners and your mother's drugs 

And your cowboy mouth and your curfew plugs 

Who among them do you think could resist you? 

Photos 

Sad-eyed lady of the lowlands 

Where the sad-eyed prophet says that no man comes 

My warehouse eyes, my Arabian drums 

Should I leave them by your gate, or sad-eyed lady, should I wait? 

Oh, the farmers and the businessmen, they all did decide 

To show you where the dead angels are that they used to hide 

But why did they pick you to sympathize with their side? 

How could they ever mistake you? 

They wished you'd accepted the blame for the farm 

But with the sea at your feet and the phony false alarm 

And with the child of the hoodlum wrapped up in your arms 

How could they ever have persuaded you? 

Sad-eyed lady of the lowlands 

Where the sad-eyed prophet says that no man's come 

My warehouse eyes, my Arabian drums 

Should I leave them by your gate, or sad-eyed lady, should I wait? 

With your sheet metal memory of Cannery Row 

And your magazine husband who one day just had to go 

And your gentleness now, which you just can't help but show 

Who among them do you think would employ you? 

Now you stand with your thief, you're on his parole 

With your holy medallion in your fingertips now enfold 

And your saintlike face and your ghostlike soul 

Who among them could ever think he could destroy you? 

Sad-eyed lady of the lowlands 

Where the sad-eyed prophet says that no man comes 

My warehouse eyes, my Arabian drums 

Should I leave them by your gate, or sad-eyed lady, should I wait?