3055
Ólafur Arnalds Lyrics

With your mercury mouth in the missionary times
Your words are quicksilver and your ideas are exceptional, just as they were during the era of exploration.

And your eyes like smoke and your prayers like rhymes
Your eyes won't stay still and your prayers flow like poetry.

And your silver cross and your voice like chimes
The way you speak is enchanting and the silver cross around your neck looks magnificent.

Oh, who do they think could bury you?
You are someone who cannot be defeated, even if they try.

With your pockets well-protected at last
You have finally achieved financial stability, and you have the resources to protect yourself.

And your streetcar visions which you place on the grass
Your dreams and aspirations are so diverse that they can be compared to a train running through the city streets.

And your flesh like silk and your face like glass
Your body is soft and delicate, and your face reflects your emotions transparently.

Who could they get to carry you?
Nobody is strong enough to bear your weight or handle your presence.

Sad-eyed lady of the lowlands
You are a melancholy woman living in the countryside, alone with your thoughts.

Where the sad-eyed prophet says that no man comes
You live in an isolated place, and no one can reach you unless they understand your sadness.

My warehouse eyes, my Arabian drums
My eyes are dark and cavernous, and my drums sound like they were transported from the Arabian deserts.

Should I put them by your gate, or sad-eyed lady, should I wait?
I'm not sure whether to leave my eyes and my drums at your doorstep or wait for you to invite me in.

With your sheets like metal and your belt like lace
Your bedsheets are as hard as metal, and your belt is as soft as lace.

And your deck of cards missing the jack and the ace
Your deck of cards is incomplete, lacking the two most powerful cards, just as your life is incomplete without something vital.

And your basement clothes and your hollow face
Your attire is shabby, and your face seems to have lost its substance or vitality.

Who among them did think he could outguess you?
No one can predict what you will do or think, despite trying.

With your silhouette when the sunlight dims
When the light fades, your figure is breathtaking.

Into your eyes where the moonlight swims
When the moon shines on your face, your eyes shine brighter.

And your matchbook songs and your gypsy hymns
Your music is a mix of mundane and spiritual, like the songs found in a matchbook and the hymns of a wanderer.

Who among them would try to impress you?
Everyone tries to please you, but you are not easily impressed.

Oh, the farmers and the businessmen, they all did decide
Both the agricultural and business communities came to the same agreement.

To show you where the dead angels are that they used to hide
They want to show you the hidden graves of the angels they stood by.

But why did they pick you to sympathize with their side?
Why did you become the chosen one to join their side or feel sympathy for them?

How could they ever mistake you?
They could never fully understand you or reciprocate your actions.

They wished you'd accepted the blame for the farm
They hoped you would take responsibility for the damage or wrongdoing that happened on the farm.

But with the sea at your feet and the phony false alarm
However, you are living next to the sea, and the situation is a false alarm.

And with the child of the hoodlum wrapped up in your arms
You protect the child of a criminal in your arms.

How could they ever have persuaded you?
They could never have convinced you to take responsibility for something you didn't do.

With your sheet metal memory of Cannery Row
You have memories of the rows of tin cans on Cannery Row, which are etched permanently in your mind.

And your magazine husband who one day just had to go
Your husband was in magazines and had to leave unexpectedly at one point in your life.

And your gentleness now, which you just can't help but show
Your inherent kindness and compassion are displayed openly, without reservation.

Who among them do you think would employ you?
No one is willing to hire you, even with all your skills and experience.

Now you stand with your thief, you're on his parole
You now stand by the side of a criminal, and you're under his supervision.

With your holy medallion in your fingertips now enfold
You hold your sacred pendant, your faith being your only anchor now.

And your saintlike face and your ghostlike soul
Your face is like that of a saint or holy person, but your soul is unknown, vanishing like a ghost.

Who among them could ever think he could destroy you?
Nobody could ever cause you harm or bring an end to your essence and individuality.

Sad-eyed lady of the lowlands
The woman with the melancholy expression, living in the countryside, remains the same throughout the song.

Where the sad-eyed prophet says that no man comes
The prophet forecasts that no one can reach her remote location.

My warehouse eyes, my Arabian drums
The singer repeats the lyrics towards the end of the song.

Should I put them by your gate, or sad-eyed lady, should I wait?
The artist concludes the lyrics with an open-ended question, wondering if he should leave his belongings or wait for her to invite him in.