Introduction
Baby King Baby King You got to get ready for a baby king You might dance daddy You might sing But you never seen nothin? like a baby king It was
Watched it coming up Winslow Down South Park Boulevard Yeah it was looking good from tail to hood Great big fins and painted steel Man it looked
I?m coming to see you Tomorrow sometime Gonna bring you some roses Gonna tear off the vines Gonna talk to the wind That blows through the trees Kiss
I?m writing you this letter from some old hotel I can feel the distance between us From the Spanish Steps to the Liberty Bell I know the angels have
the winter of my discontent Looking out my window At the people passing by I keep wondering where my old companion went On the steps of the museum I
Baby let?s go below the surface See what we can find There?s no reason to be nervous ?Cause it happens all the time I don?t want to go up to the
I was driving down Ninth Avenue As the sky was getting dark Didn?t have nothin? else to do So I kept on riding to Battery Park I stepped out in the damp
I got 29 ways to make it to my baby?s door I got 29 ways to make it to my baby?s door And if she needs me bad I can find about two or three more I
They say my final masterpiece Was this house upon the hill High above the great and mighty river My hand could not hold the brushes Yes I guess I lost
Baby I?ve been searching like everybody else Can?t say nothing different about myself Sometimes I?m an angel And sometimes I?m cruel And when it comes
Down along these hillsides Many miles ago Lived a man of vision child But little did I know He was always talking child About the heart and soul ?Til
I can see you with the top down In that car you keep under the eaves I can see the ocean wind blow Through your hair And all along your sleeves I see
Johnny took the 4:05 and he rode it Rode it down the line He did not know that the ghost of Charlie Christian Was riding too That?s when he got the
Well, I had just checked in when the sun came up After ten hours on the bus I was staring at the stains on the ceiling, baby Trying not to think about
Put on my blue suede shoes And I boarded the plane Touched down in the land of the Delta Blues In the middle of the pouring rain W.C. Handy ? won?t you
Everybody talks about some fateful day And I guess that this was mine I may be here to tell some kind of story But I think it?s gonna take a little time
