thinkin' of me I guess I got My baby don't love me blues If it's true what I'm thinkin' She's on the town Slinkin' all around My baby don't love me blues
Drinking blood A red delightful bloody power My fatal bite The art of the blackest hour I suck your blood An immense everlasting lust Morning grows The
, so sad Like 'Faded love' or 'Born to lose' 'Cause it's sad, when a love song sings the blues Ah haa And it's sad, when a love song sings the blues Ah
, blues songs, oh Keep playing the same damn, old, blues songs, oh They don't make me weep anymore, anymore Keep playing the same damn, old, blues songs Over the same damn, old, blues
They're singing secular songs in the churches And there's not a of word of God It's all Schubert and Beethoven Oh and lots of French love songs So let
money Then he said, "Aren't you that songwriter guy?" And I said, "Yes, I am," he said, "So am I" He sat down and played me a song by the grease rack
of the thousands of you come down with the heart string blues It is preaching all the virtues of love and providence It would sell your soul for a sad song
Words, a simple song A minstrel sings a way of life in his eyes Hear the morning call of waking birds When they are singing, bringing love, love Everywhere
sing my song And sing it all day long A song that never ends How can I tell you All the things inside my head I'm gonna sing my song A song that never
Lovely to know the warmth You're smile can bring to me I want to tell you but the words you do not know Sing me a lullaby Of songs you cannot write And
the blues The blues isn't an art form It's not a type of music The blues is a product Not unlike computer chips or tampons The blues is a way for white
got all the money in the whole wide world And toys he'll never use But he don't know a damn thing 'Bout when a poor man gets the blues Rich man thinks
Instrumental
holdin' me I feel that happy love song Commin' through, mmmm, thank you You're the first song that I've ever sung That wasn't the blues You're the first song
tired old blue song Oh with the same tired old blues con Put those songs to sleep They don't make me weep anymore You keep playing the same tired old blue song
(Instrumental)
take money Then he said, "Ain't you that songwriter guy" I said, "Yes I am," he said, "So am I" And he sat down and played me a song by the grease rack
Gwendolyn I wonder what you'd've called them I think a name you might choose is Nobody's Blues You see when you are just a kid They think you won't remember
