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 chimesOh, who do they think could bury you?

With your pockets well-protected at last

And your streetcar visions which you place on the grass

And your flesh like silk and your face like glass

Who could they get to carry you?

Sad-eyed lady of the lowlands

Where the sad-eyed prophet says 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 did 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?

Sad-eyed lady of the lowlands

Where the sad-eyed prophet says that no man comes

My warehouse eyes, my Arabian drums

Should I put them by your gate, or sad-eyed lady, should I wait?

The kings of Tyrus, with their convict list

Are waiting in line for their geranium kiss

And you wouldn′t know it would have happened like this

But 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 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 sad-eyed prophet says 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?

Sad-eyed lady of the lowlands

Where the sad-eyed prophet says that no man's come

My warehouse eyes, my Arabian drums

Should I leave them by your gate, or sad-eyed lady, should I wait?

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 in your fingertips now enfold

And your saintlike face and your ghostlike soul

Who among them could ever think he could destroy you?

Sad-eyed lady of the lowlands

Where the sad-eyed prophet says that no man comes

My warehouse eyes, my Arabian drums

Should I leave them by your gate, or sad-eyed lady, should I wait?