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Caribbean Wind - Rehearsal With Pedal Steel Lyrics - Artist : Bob Dylan
She was from Haiti, fair brown and intense
I don't think she'd ever known about innocence I was playing a show in Miami, in the theater of mystery Told about Jesus, told about the rain She told me about the vision, told me about the pain That had risen from the ashes and abided in her memory Was she a virtuous woman? I really can't say Something about her said "Trust me anyway" As the days turned into minutes and the minutes turned back into hours Pretended to be sleeping, and he thought I was But I was only paying attention like a rattlesnake does When he's hearing footsteps trampling on the flowers The Caribbean winds still blow, from Mexico to Curacao From Chinatown to the furnace of desire And them distant ships of liberty on the iron waves so bold and free Bringing everyone that's near to me closer to the fire Our shadows grew closer till they touched on the floor Prodigal sons waiting close to the door Preaching obscenities, waiting for the night to arrive He was well connected, but her heart was a snare She had left him to die in there But I knew I couldn't get him out while he still was alive The stars on the balcony, flies buzz my head Ceiling fan's broken, there's heat in my bed Street band playing "Nearer, My God, to Thee" She looked into my eyes, I hear them mission bells ring She said "I know what you're thinking, but there ain't a thing "You can do about it so you might as well let it be" And them Caribbean winds still blow, from Mexico down to Curacao From Chinatown to the furnace of desire And them distant ships of liberty on them iron waves so bold and free Bringing everything you'd ever want close to me closer to the fire Atlantic city by the cruel sea, I hear a voice crying "Daddy," I always think it's for me But it's only the silence in the Buttermilk Hills that calls Every new messenger bringing evil reports 'Bout armies that are rioting whose fuses are short And them ugly gargoyles and hate words written on walls Would I have married her? I don't know, I suppose She had bells in her braids, fire in her clothes But the curtain was rising, like they say, the show must go on And I felt you come over me, some kind of gloom I was gonna say "Come on with me, I've got plenty of room" But I knew I'd be lying, and besides she had already gone And them Caribbean winds still blow, from Curacao to Mexico From Chinatown to the furnace of desire And them distant ships of liberty, on iron waves so bold and free Bringing everything that's near to me nearer to the fire |
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