Luyện nghe bài hát Sad - Eyed Lady of The Lowlands

With your mercury mouth in the times,
And your eyes like and your prayers like rhymes,
And your silver cross, and your voice chimes,
Oh, do they think could bury
With your pockets protected at last,
And streetcar visions which you place on the grass,
And your flesh like silk, and your face glass,
Who could they get to you?

lady of the lowlands,
Where the sad-eyed says that no man comes,
My warehouse eyes, my drums,
Should I put them by gate,
Or, lady, should I wait?

With sheets like metal and your belt like lace,
And your deck of missing the jack and the ace,
And your basement and your hollow face,
Who them can think he could outguess you?
With your when the sunlight dims
Into eyes where the moonlight swims,
And your songs and your gypsy hymns,
Who among them would try to you?

Sad-eyed of the lowlands,
Where the sad-eyed prophet says no man comes,
My warehouse eyes, my drums,
Should I put by your gate,
Or, sad-eyed lady, should I

The kings of with their convict list
Are waiting in for their geranium kiss,
And you wouldn't it would happen like this,
But who among really wants just to kiss you?
With your childhood flames on midnight rug,
And your Spanish manners and your drugs,
And your cowboy mouth and curfew plugs,
Who them do you think could resist you?

Sad-eyed of the lowlands,
Where the sad-eyed prophet that no man comes,
My warehouse eyes, my drums,
Should I them by your gate,
Or, sad-eyed lady, should I

Oh, the farmers and the businessmen, all did decide
To show you the dead that they used to hide.
But why did they pick you to with their side?
Oh, how could they ever you?
They wished you'd the blame for the farm,
But with the sea at your feet and the false alarm,
And the child of a hoodlum wrapped up in your arms,
How could they ever, persuade you?

Sad-eyed of the lowlands,
Where the sad-eyed says that no man comes,
My warehouse eyes, my drums,
I leave them by your gate,
Or, sad-eyed lady, should I

With your sheet-metal memory of Row,
And your magazine-husband who one day had to go,
And your gentleness now, which you can't help but show,
Who among them do you think would you?
Now you stand with your thief, you're on his
With your holy medallion which your fold,
And saintlike face and your ghostlike soul,
Oh, who among them do you think could you?

Sad-eyed of the lowlands,
Where the sad-eyed says that no man comes,
My warehouse eyes, my drums,
Should I them by your gate,
Or, sad-eyed lady, I wait?