| There are shadows on the sidewalks
|
| Of the city streets at night,
|
| And the alleyways and ugly things
|
| Are hidden from the light.
|
| And somewhere, son, my baby’s
|
| Gonna sell her soul again,
|
| For a custom tailored lady-killer
|
| They call Sugar Man.
|
| I searched the backstreet barrooms,
|
| And every cheap hotel,
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| Asking for my baby; |
| they all knew her well.
|
| Well, they said, «She's out there working
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| For the wages of her sin,
|
| And if you want to find your baby, Baby,
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| Look for Sugar Man.»
|
| Well, tonight I found her
|
| On the sorry side of town
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| Lying cold upon the bed
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| Where she had laid her body down.
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| I picked up the needle that had fallen from her hand
|
| And stuck it through the money she had made for Sugar Man.
|
| There are shadows on the sidewalks
|
| Of the city streets at night
|
| And the alleyways and ugly things
|
| Are hidden from the light.
|
| But the sun’s gonna shine tomorrow
|
| On some dirty gargage cans,
|
| And a custom tailored lady-killer
|
| They called Sugar Man. |