Michael Franks Doctor Sax
By day He's a grease monkey it's true A slave Fix your transmission like new Change oil Rotate your tires of course He toils Under the Flying Red Horse And at six he rolls Down his sleeves Turns his collar up When the boss man leaves Close up the shop Puts away his tools Gives the last car keys To the gas pump fools Then he's home at last No more goodwrench scene And he scrubs his hands Till they're surgeon clean Takes a long hot shower Some cologne and then The change is complete He's himself again At night he's Doctor Sax He's Mister Tenor Virtuoso He plays to rhythm tracks on tape No one like Doctor Sax Not even Trane or Bird could blow so The girls have heart attacks, they say (He'll put it all on wax one day) Some day He will live just in his mind Some way Leave all his misery behind His horn He will blow breaking the curse Reborn Under the Flying Red Horse
