[00:00.000] 作词 : Bob Dylan
[00:01.000] 作曲 : Bob Dylan
[00:09.868]With your mercury mouth in the missionary times
[00:19.126]And your eyes like smoke and your prayers like rhymes
[00:28.138]And your silver cross and your voice like chimes
[00:37.618]Oh, who do they think could bury you?
[00:46.869]With your pockets well-protected at last
[00:56.880]And your streetcar visions which you place on the grass
[01:06.123]And your flesh like silk and your face like glass
[01:15.871]Who could they get to carry you?
[01:26.129]Sad-eyed lady of the lowlands
[01:36.374]Where the sad-eyed prophet says that no man comes
[01:45.886]My warehouse eyes, my Arabian drums
[01:58.628]Should I put them by your gate, or sad-eyed lady, should I wait?
[02:21.128]With your sheets like metal and your belt like lace
[02:30.618]And your deck of cards missing the jack and the ace
[02:39.871]And your basement clothes and your hollow face
[02:49.366]Who among them did think he could outguess you?
[02:58.874]With your silhouette when the sunlight dims
[03:09.118]Into your eyes where the moonlight swims
[03:17.384]And your matchbook songs and your gypsy hymns
[03:27.123]Who among them would try to impress you?
[03:37.618]Sad-eyed lady of the lowlands
[03:47.115]Where the sad-eyed prophet says that no man comes
[03:56.868]My warehouse eyes, my Arabian drums
[04:09.870]Should I put them by your gate, or sad-eyed lady, should I wait?
[04:31.737]The kings of Tyrus, with their convict list
[04:40.979]Are waiting in line for their geranium kiss
[04:49.989]And you wouldn't know it would have happened like this
[04:59.241]But who among them really wants just to kiss you?
[05:08.485]With your childhood flames on your midnight rug
[05:17.994]And your Spanish manners and your mother's drugs
[05:26.978]And your cowboy mouth and your curfew plugs
[05:35.993]Who among them do you think could resist you?
[05:46.486]Sad-eyed lady of the lowlands
[05:55.486]Where the sad-eyed prophet says that no man comes
[06:05.476]My warehouse eyes, my Arabian drums
[06:18.234]Should I leave them by your gate, or sad-eyed lady, should I wait?
[06:39.981]Oh, the farmers and the businessmen, they all did decide
[06:48.994]To show you where the dead angels are that they used to hide
[06:57.742]But why did they pick you to sympathize with their side?
[07:06.994]How could they ever mistake you?
[07:16.229]They wished you'd accepted the blame for the farm
[07:25.227]But with the sea at your feet and the phony false alarm
[07:33.993]And with the child of the hoodlum wrapped up in your arms
[07:43.743]How could they ever have persuaded you?
[07:53.983]Sad-eyed lady of the lowlands
[08:03.226]Where the sad-eyed prophet says that no man's come
[08:12.738]My warehouse eyes, my Arabian drums
[08:25.492]Should I leave them by your gate, or sad-eyed lady, should I wait?
[08:46.732]With your sheet metal memory of Cannery Row
[08:55.983]And your magazine husband who one day just had to go
[09:04.979]And your gentleness now, which you just can't help but show
[09:14.234]Who among them do you think would employ you?
[09:22.734]Now you stand with your thief, you're on his parole
[09:31.984]With your holy medallion in your fingertips now enfold
[09:41.235]And your saintlike face and your ghostlike soul
[09:49.983]Who among them could ever think he could destroy you?
[10:00.239]Sad-eyed lady of the lowlands
[10:08.991]Where the sad-eyed prophet says that no man comes
[10:18.729]My warehouse eyes, my Arabian drums
[10:31.484]Should I leave them by your gate, or sad-eyed lady, should I wait?

作词 : Bob Dylan
作曲 : Bob Dylan
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 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?