With your mercury mouth in the missionary times
And your eyes like smoke and your prayers like rhymes
And your silver cross, and your voice like chimes
Oh, who do they think could bury you?
With your pockets well protected at last
And your streetcar visions which ya' place on the gra**
And your flesh like silk, and your face like gla**
Who could they get to carry you?
Sad-eyed lady of the lowlands
Where the sad-eyed prophet say that no man comes
My warehouse eyes, my Arabian drums
Should I put them by your gate
Or, sad-eyed lady, should 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 can think he could outguess you?
With your silhouette when the sunlight dims
Into your eyes where the moonlight swims
And your matchbook songs and your gypsy hymns
Who among them would try to impress you?
(Chorus)
The kings of Tyrus with their convict list
Are waiting in line for their geranium kiss
And ya' wouldn't know it woulda' happened like this
But a'who among them really wants just to kiss you?
With your childhood flames on your midnight rug
And your Spanish manners and your mother's d**
And your cowboy mouth and your curfew plugs
Who among them do ya' think could resist you?
Sad-eyed lady of the lowlands
Where the sad-eyed prophet say that no man comes
My warehouse eyes, my Arabian drums
Should I leave them by your gate
Or, sad-eyed lady, should I wait?
Oh, the farmers and the businessmen, they all did decide
To show you where the dead angels are that they used to hide
But why did they pick you to sympathize with their side?
How could they ever mistake you?
They wished you'd accepted the blame for the farm
But with the sea at your feet and the phony false alarm
And with the child of the hoodlum wrapped up in your arms
How could they ever have persuaded you?
(Chorus)
With your sheet-metal memory of Cannery Row
And your magazine-husband who one day just had to go
And your gentleness now, which you just can't help but show
Who among them do you think would employ you?
Now you stand with your thief, you're on his parole
With your holy medallion an' your fingertips now that fold
And your saintlike face and your ghost-like soul
Who among them could ever think it could destroy you?
(Chorus)