Sad-Eyed Lady of the Lowlands chords Bob Dylan Capo II C G F G7 2x

With your ^Cmercury ^Gmouth in the ^Fmissionary ^G7times, And your ^Ceyes like ^Gsmoke and your ^Fprayers like ^Grhymes, And your ^Fsilver ^Ccross, and your ^Dmvoice ^G7like ^Cchimes, Oh, ^Cwho do they ^Dmthink could ^G7bury ^Gyou?

With your ^Cpockets well pro^Gtected ^Fat l^G7ast, And your ^Cstreetcar ^Gvisions which you ^Fplace on the ^Ggrass, And your ^Fflesh like ^Csilk, and your ^Dmface ^G7like ^Cglass, ^Cwho could they ^Dmget to ^G7carry ^Gyou?

^DmSad-eyed lady of the ^Clow^Glands, ^DmWhere the sad-eyed prophet says that ^Cno ^G7man ^Gcomes, My ^Cware^Ghouse ^Feyes, ^Cmy ^FArabi^Can ^Gdrums, ^DmShould I put them by your ^G7gate,^G ^DmOr, sad-eyed lady, should I ^Cwait?^G

With your ^Csheets like ^Gmetal and your ^Fbelt like ^G7lace, And your ^Cdeck of cards ^Gmissing the ^Fjack and the ^Gace, And your ^Fbasement ^Cclothes and your ^Dmholl^G7ow ^Cface, ^CWho among them can ^Dmthink he could out^G7guess ^Gyou?

With your ^Csilhouette ^Gwhen the ^Fsunlight ^G7dims Into your ^Ceyes ^Gwhere the ^Fmoonlight ^Gswims, And your ^Fmatch-book ^Csongs and your ^Dmgyp^G7sy ^Chymns, ^CWho among them would ^Dmtry to im^G7press ^Gyou?

^DmSad-eyed lady of the ^Clow^Glands, ^DmWhere the sad-eyed prophet says that ^Cno ^G7man ^Gcomes,

My ^Cware^Ghouse ^Feyes, ^Cmy ^FArabi^Can ^G7drums, ^DmShould I put them by your ^G7gate,^G ^DmOr, sad-eyed lady, should I ^Cwait?^G

The ^Ckings of ^GTyrus with their ^Fconvict ^G7list Are waiting in ^Cline ^Gfor their ger^Fanium ^Gkiss, And you ^Fwouldn't ^Cknow it would ^Dmhappen ^G7like ^Cthis, ^CBut who among them really ^Dmwants just to ^G7kiss ^Gyou?

With your ^Cchildhood ^Gflames on your ^Fmidnight ^G7rug, And your ^CSpanish ^Gmanners and your ^Fmother's ^Gdrugs, And your ^Fcowboy ^Cmouth and your ^Dmcur^G7few ^Cplugs, ^CWho among them do you ^Dmthink could re^G7sist ^Gyou?

^DmSad-eyed lady of the ^Clow^Glands, ^DmWhere the sad-eyed prophet says that ^Cno ^G7man ^Gcomes, My ^Cware^Ghouse ^Feyes, ^Cmy ^FArabi^Can ^G7drums, ^DmShould I put them by your g^G7ate, ^G ^DmOr, sad-eyed lady, should I ^Cwait?^G

Oh, the farmers and the businessmen, they all did decide To show you the dead angels that they used to hide. But why did they pick you to sympathize with their side? Oh, 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 a hoodlum wrapped up in your arms, How could they ever, ever persuade you?

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 which your fingertips fold, And your saint like face and your ghostlike soul, Oh, who among them do you think could destroy you

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Bob Dylan - Sad eyed lady of the lowlands