Steve Winwood Talking Back To The Night
High above the heat of a summer New York street An out-of-work musician plays a solo saxophone He's a preacher and a teacher And he stands up all alone Stranded in the dark of a vision in the park A poet in his madness tries to find another line And he's losing and he's using And he says he's doing fine And they look from such a height That somehow it's all right They're talking back to the night It's all that they can do Talking back to the night It's how they make it through If you listen you can hear them Their voices draw you near them They're talking back to the night for you Something seems to take every dime the man can make His dream is getting smaller and he wonders where to turn And he's trying hard to make it And he's trying not to burn Woman never minds, pulls the shade and draws the blinds She takes him in the darkness where the loneliest can feed She gives him all she has to And it's no more than he needs
