Caribbean Wind Bob Dylan studio outtake

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Shots Of Love sessions 11 Apr. 1981 (Biograph)
G Bm Em C G Bm/f# D C
G Bm
She was the rose of Sharon from paradise lost
Em C
From the city of seven hills near the place of the cross.
G Bm/f# Em D C
I was playing a show in Miami in the theater of divine comedy.
Told about Jesus, told about the rain,
She told me about the jungle where her brothers were slain
By the man who invented iron and disappeared so mysteriously. *)
Was she a child or an angel? Did we go too far?
Were we sniped the bait? Did we follow a star
through a hole in the wall to where the long arm of the law cannot reach.
Could I've been used and played as a pawn?
It certainly was possible as the gay night wore on
Where men bathed in perfume and practiced the hoax of free speech.
C D G C
And them Caribbean winds still blow from Nassau to Mexico
G C D
Fanning the flames in the furnace of desire
C D G C
And them distant ships of liberty on them iron waves so bold and free,
G C D G
Bringing everything that's near to me nearer to the fire.
Sea breeze blowin’, there’s a hellhound loose
Redeemed men who have escaped from the noose
Preaching faith and salvation, waitin’ on the night to arrive.
He was well connected, but her heart was a snare
And she had left him to die in there,
He was goin’ down slow, just barely stayin’ alive.
The cry of the peacock, flies buzz in my head,
Ceiling fan broken, there’s a heat in my bed,
Street band playing “Nearer My God to Thee.”
We met at the station where the mission bells ring,
She said, “I know what you’re thinking, but there ain’t a thing
you can do about it, so let us just agree to agree.”
And them Caribbean winds still blow from Nassau to Mexico
Fanning the flames in the furnace of desire
And them distant ships of liberty on them iron waves so bold and free,
Bringing everything that's near to me nearer to the fire.
Atlantic City by the cold grey 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 report
’Bout armies on the march and time that is short
An’ famines and earthquakes and train wrecks and the tearin’ down of the walls.
Did you ever have a dream that you couldn’t explain?
Did you ever meet your accusers face to face in the rain?
She had chrome brown eyes that I won’t forget as long as she’s gone.
I see the screw breaking loose, see the devil pounding on tin,
I see a house in the country being torn apart from within.
I can hear my ancestors calling from the land far beyond.
And them Caribbean winds still blow from Nassau to Mexico
Fanning the flames in the furnace of desire
And them distant ships of liberty on them iron waves so bold and free,
Bringing everything that's near to me nearer to the fire.