Luyện nghe bài hát Sad - Eyed Lady of The Lowlands

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sad-eyed of the lowlands,
Where the prophet 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 who one day just had to go,
And your now, which you just can't help but show,
Who among them do you think would employ
Now you stand with thief, you're on his parole
With your medallion which your fingertips fold,
And your saintlike face and your soul,
Oh, who among them do you think could destroy

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