Sad Eyed Lady of the Lowlands Songtext
von Old Crow Medicine Show

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 among them do you 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
So, who among them do you think could 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 leave them by your gate?
Or, sad-eyed lady, should I wait?

With your sheet like metal and your belt like lace
And your deck o′ cards missin' the jack and the ace
And your basement clothes and your hollow face
Oh, who among them do you think 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
Oh, who among them could ever impress 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?

When the kings of Tyrus with their convict list
Are waitin′ in line for their geranium kiss
And you wouldn't know that it would happen like this
But who among them really wants just to kiss you?

With your childhood flames upon your midnight rug
And your Spanish manners and your mother's drugs
And your cowboy mouth and your curfew plug
Oh, who among them could ever resist you?

Sad-eyed lady of the lowlands
Where the sad-eyed prophets 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?


The farmers and the businessmen, they all did decide
To show you the dead angels that you used to hide
Oh, but why did they pick you to sympathize with your side?
Oh, who among them could ever mistake you?

They wish you′d accepted the blame for the farm
And with the sea at your feet and your phony false alarm
And with the child of a hoodlum wrapped in your arm
Oh, who among them could ever replace you? Oh, yay

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?
With your sheet-metal memory of Cannery Row
And your magazine husband who just one day had to go
And your gentleness now, which you can′t help but show
Oh, who among them could ever destroy you?

Now you stand with your thief, you're on his parole
With your holy medallion which your fingertips hold
And your saint-like face and your ghost-like soul
Oh, who among them could ever employ you? Aye

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?

Should I leave them by your gate?
Or, sad-eyed lady, should I wait?
Yeah
Alright
50 years of Blonde On Blonde