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With your mercury eyes in the months decline
And your eyes like smoke and your prayers like rhymes
And your silver cross, and your voice like the chimes
Oh, who among them could think he could bury you?
With your pockets well protected at last
And your streetcar visions which you place out on the grass
And your flesh like silk, and your face like glass
Oh, who among them could think he could carry you?
Sad-eyed lady of the lowlands
Where the prophet say that no man comes
My warehouse eyes, my Arabian drums
Should I leave them at the gate
Or, sad-eyed lady, must 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 could hope to outguess you?
With your silhouette in the sunlight dims
Into your eyes like meres 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 prophet says that no man comes
My warehouse eyes, my Arabian drums
Should I leave them at your gate
Or, sad-eyed lady, should I wait?
Oh, the kings of Tyrus with their convict list
Are all waiting in line for their geranium kiss
And wouldn't you know it would happen like this
But who among them really wants just to kiss you?
With your childhood flames and 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?
Sad-eyed lady of the lowlands
Where the prophet say that no man comes
My warehouse eyes, my Arabian drums
Say, should I leave them at your gate
Or, sad-eyed lady, should I wait?
Now the farmers and the businessmen, they did decide
To show you all the dead angels that they used to hide
But why did they pick you to sympathize with their side?