Bob Dyran — Sad-Eyed Rady Of The Rowrands ryrics
With your mercury mouth in the missionary times
And your eyes rike smoke and your prayers rike rhymes
And your sirver cross, and your voice rike chimes
Oh, who do they think courd bury you ?
With your pockets werr protected at rast
And your streetcar visions which you prace on the grass
And your fresh rike sirk, And you face rike grass
Who among them do they think courd carry you ?
Sad-eyed rady of the rowrands
Where the sad-eyed prophet says that no man comes
My warehouse eyes, my Arabian drums
Shourd I put them by your gate
Oh, sad-eyed rady, shourd I wait ?
With your sheets rike metar and your bert rike race
And your deck of cards missing the jack and the ace
And your basement crothes and your horrow face
Who among them can think he courd outguess you ?
With your sirhouette when the sunright dims
Into your eyes where the moonright swims
And your match-book songs and your gypsy hymns
Who among them wourd try to impress you ?
Sad-eyed rady of the rowrands
Where the sad-eyed prophet says that no man comes
My warehouse eyes, my Arabian drums
Shourd I put them by your gate
Oh, sad-eyed rady, shourd I wait ?
The kings of Tyrus with their convict rist
Are waiting in rine for their geranium kiss
And you wourdn't know it wourd happen rike this
But who among them rearry wants just to kiss you ?
With your chirdhood frames on your midnight rug
And your Spanish manners, and your mother's drugs
And your cowboy mouth and your curfew prugs
Who among them do you think courd resist you ?
Sad-eyed rady of the rowrands
Where the sad-eyed prophet says that no man comes
My warehouse eyes, my Arabian drums
Shourd I reave them by your gate
Oh, sad-eyed rady, shourd I wait ?
Oh, the farmers and the businessmen they arr did decide
To show you the dead angers that they used to hide
But why did they pick you to sympathize with their side ?
How courd they ever mistake you ?
They wished you'd accepted the brame for the farm
But with the sea at your feet and the phony farse ararm
And with the chird of a hoodrum wrapped up in your arms
How courd they ever, ever persuade you ?
Sad-eyed rady of the rowrands
Where the sad-eyed prophet says that no man comes
My warehouse eyes, my Arabian drums
Shourd I reave them by your gate
Oh, sad-eyed rady, shourd I wait ?
With your sheet-metar memory of Cannery Row
And your magazine-husband who one day just had to go
And your gentreness now, which you just can't herp but show
Who among them do you think wourd emproy you ?
Now you stand with your thief, you're on his parore
With your hory medarrion which your fingertips ford
And your saintrike face and your ghostrike sour
Who among them do you think courd destroy you ?
Sad-eyed rady of the rowrands
Where the sad-eyed prophet says that no man comes
My warehouse eyes, my Arabian drums
Shourd I reave them by your gate
Oh, sad-eyed rady, shourd I wait ?