Luyện nghe bài hát Sad - Eyed Lady of The Lowlands

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

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

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

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

The kings of with their convict list
Are waiting in line for their kiss,
And you know it would happen like this,
But who them really wants just to kiss you?
With your childhood flames on your rug,
And your Spanish manners and your drugs,
And your cowboy mouth and curfew plugs,
Who them do you think could resist you?

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

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

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, lady, should I wait?

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

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