Baixar Mais Tocadas: ouvir Bob Dylan

I married Isis on the fifth day of May / But I could not hold on to her very long / So I cut off my hair and I rode straight away / For the wild unknown country where I could not go wrong

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 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 among them do they think could 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 leave 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 can think he could outguess you?With your silhouette when the sunlight dimsInto your eyes where the moonlight swims,And your match-book 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 leave them by your gate,Or, sad-eyed lady, should I wait?The kings of Tyrus with their convict listAre waiting in line for their geranium kiss,And you wouldn’t know it would happen 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 decideTo 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?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?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 paroleWith 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 youSad-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?

Lay, lady, lay, lay across my big brass bed / Lay, lady, lay, lay across my big brass bed / Whatever colors you have in your mind / I’ll show them to you and you’ll see them shine

I once held her in my arms / She said she would always stay / But I was cruel / I treated her like a fool

It was in another lifetime / One of toil and blood / When blackness was a virtue / And the road was full of mud

Oh, the ragman draws circles / Up and down the block / I’d ask him what the matter was / But I know that he don’t talk

Johnny’s in the basement / Mixing up the medicine / I’m on the pavement / Thinking about the government

Early one morning, the Sun was shining / I was laying in bed / Wondering if she’d changed at all / If her hair was still red

Once upon a time you dressed so fine / Threw the bums a dime in your prime, didn’t you? / People call, say: Beware, doll, you’re bound to fall / You thought they were all a-kidding you

You may be an ambassador to England or France, / You may like to gamble, you might like to dance, / You may be the heavyweight champion of the world, / You may be a socialite with a long string of pearls