Luyện nghe bài hát Sad Eyed Lady of the Lowlands

With your mercury in the missionary times
Your eyes like smoke and prayers like rhymes
And your silver and your voice like chimes
Who do they think could bury

With your pockets well protected at
And your streetcar visions you place on the grass
And your flesh like silk and face like glass
Who could they get to ever carry

Sad eyed of the lowlands
Where the sad prophet say that, "No man comes"
My warehouse eyes, my Arabian
Should I leave them by your
Or sad eyed lady, I wait?

With your sheets like metal and your belt lace
And your deck of cards missing the and the ace
And your basement clothes and hollow face
Who them to think he could outguess you?

your silhouette when the sunlight dims
Into your where the moonlight swims
And match-book songs and your gypsy hymns
Who among would try to impress you?

Sad eyed lady of the
Where the sad eyed say that, "No man comes"
My warehouse eyes, my Arabian
Should I them by your gate?
Or sad eyed lady, I wait?

The kings of Tyrus with convict list
Are waiting in line for geranium kiss
And you wouldn't know, it would happen this
But who among them really wants to kiss you

With your childhood on your midnight rug
And your Spanish manners and your drugs
And your mouth and your curfew plugs
Who among them do you think resist you?

Sad eyed lady of the
Where the sad prophet say that, "No man comes"
My eyes, my Arabian drums
Should I them by your gate?
Or sad lady, should I wait?

he farmers and the businessmen, all did decide
To show you the dead angels they used to hide
But why did they pick you to sympathize with their
How they ever mistake you?

They wished you'd accepted the blame for the
But with the sea at your feet and the false alarm
And with the child of a hoodlum wrapped up in arms
How could they ever, persuade you?

Sad eyed of the lowlands
the sad eyed prophet say that, "No man comes"
My eyes, my Arabian drums
Should I leave them by your
Or sad lady, should I wait?

With your sheet memory of Cannery Row
And your magazine husband who one day had to go
And your now which you just can't help but show
Who among do you think would employ you?

Now you stand with your thief, on his parole
With your holy in your fingers now that rolls
And your saintlike face and ghostlike soul
Who among them could ever think he could destroy

Sad lady of the lowlands
Where the sad eyed say that, "No man comes"
My warehouse eyes, my Arabian
I leave them by your gate?
Or sad lady, should I wait?