https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sad_Eyed_Lady_of_the_Lowlands
Sad eyed lady of the Lowlands
With your mercury mouth in the missionary timesAnd your eyes like smoke and your prayers like rhymesAnd your silver cross and your voice like chimesOh, who do they think could bury you?
With your pockets well-protected at lastAnd your streetcar visions which you place on the grassAnd your flesh like silk and your face like glassWho could they get to carry you?
Sad-eyed lady of the lowlandsWhere the sad-eyed prophet says that no man comesMy warehouse eyes, my Arabian drumsShould I put them by your gate, or sad-eyed lady, should I wait?
With your sheets like metal and your belt like laceAnd your deck of cards missing the jack and the aceAnd your basement clothes and your hollow faceWho among them did think he could outguess you?
With your silhouette when the sunlight dimsInto your eyes where the moonlight swimsAnd your matchbook songs and your gypsy hymnsWho among them would try to impress you?
Sad-eyed lady of the lowlandsWhere the sad-eyed prophet says that no man comesMy warehouse eyes, my Arabian drumsShould I put them by your gate, or sad-eyed lady, should I wait?
The kings of Tyrus, with their convict listAre waiting in line for their geranium kissAnd you wouldn't know it would have happened like thisBut who among them really wants just to kiss you?
With your childhood flames on your midnight rugAnd your Spanish manners and your mother's drugsAnd your cowboy mouth and your curfew plugsWho among them do you think could resist you?
Sad-eyed lady of the lowlandsWhere the sad-eyed prophet says that no man comesMy warehouse eyes, my Arabian drumsShould I leave them by your gate, or sad-eyed lady, should I wait?
Oh, the farmers and the businessmen, they all did decideTo show you where the dead angels are that they used to hideBut 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 farmBut with the sea at your feet and the phony false alarmAnd with the child of the hoodlum wrapped up in your armsHow could they ever have persuaded you?
Sad-eyed lady of the lowlandsWhere the sad-eyed prophet says that no man's comeMy warehouse eyes, my Arabian drumsShould I leave them by your gate, or sad-eyed lady, should I wait?
With your sheet metal memory of Cannery RowAnd your magazine husband who one day just had to goAnd your gentleness now, which you just can't help but showWho among them do you think would employ you?Now you stand with your thief, you're on his paroleWith your holy medallion in your fingertips now enfoldAnd your saintlike face and your ghostlike soulWho among them could ever think he could destroy you?Sad-eyed lady of the lowlandsWhere the sad-eyed prophet says that no man comesMy warehouse eyes, my Arabian drumsShould I leave them by your gate, or sad-eyed lady, should I wait?
No hay comentarios:
Publicar un comentario