| The saxophone across the hall
|
| Screams for harmony
|
| Another voice
|
| A counterpoint
|
| Some company
|
| Sing those blues, lonely saxophone
|
| I’ll try to give you what you need
|
| Sing those blues, lonely saxophone
|
| I’ll try to give you what you need
|
| The derelict flags down the cars
|
| On the Bowery
|
| With the dirty rag
|
| And his paper bag
|
| For company
|
| Sing those blues, brother down and out
|
| I’ll try to give you what you need
|
| Sing those blues, brother down and out
|
| I’ll try to give you what you need
|
| If you tell yourself you’re satisfied
|
| Nothing better will be found
|
| But when it grows so dark
|
| That you howl for th moon
|
| Well, at least it gets your yes up off the ground
|
| Love, I don’t need my windshield cleaned
|
| You can have it all for free
|
| Another voice
|
| A counterpoint
|
| Some company
|
| But
|
| Sing those blues, will you, anyway
|
| 'Cause I can’t give you what you need
|
| Sing those blues with me
|
| Take my hand
|
| And we’ll go look
|
| For what
|
| We need |