Lyrics:
on as a local stage hand
The one in charge of the microphone stands
And the lead singer told me to get one
In his dressing room
We might even have a beer
a Lady! ~ Oh yeah!
He's a Singer! ~ I'm a Singer!
Like Caruso! ~ Learned to do so,
In a barber-shop quartet
I once gave a hair-cut to a fellow one day
guitar
In coffeehouses, hall and bars
Everyone that I call friend
Knows they will not be forgot
Trains and planes and rented cars
Singers, saints
much
On looks I don't know
Lord, I seen his picture in lots of
Song books but I still don't know
They say he was weak for
The women and wine and
He
On another world by another star at another place and time
In another state of consciousness in another state of mind
Everything was almost
with you
Day by day by day by day
Time, time again, it is said
We will hear, we will see
See it all-in his wisdom-hear
His truth will abound
There's a tramp sittin' on my doorstep
Tryin' to waste his time
With his methylated sandwich
He's a walking clothesline
And here comes
it every step of the way
Day-ohh
As a singer grows older
His conception goes a little deeper
Because he lives life
And he understands what
a Lady! ~ Oh yeah!
He's a Singer! ~ I'm a Singer!
Like Caruso! ~ Learned to do so,
In a barber-shop quartet
I once gave a hair-cut to a fellow one day
Another dawn's creeping in
And I guess it's my bedtime again
And some old farmer fills his cup
While I'm coming down from last night's buzz
I
There's a tramp sittin' on my doorstep
Tryin' to waste his time
With his methylated sandwich
He's a walking clothesline
And here comes
it too
All his fans in New York loved him
There's no one above him
Here in the USA
I've heard 'em say ol' Eddie was the man
Oh how he could
it too
All his fans in New York loved him
There's no one above him
Here in the USA
I've heard 'em say ol' Eddie was the man
Oh how he could
the wringer
Ladies and gentlemen, the soul singer
Likes to grumble, loves to scoff
about all of the cats who ripped him off
the soul singer
His all time
She loved the singer
She loved the way he stood on stage and played
And just poured out his heart and soul
She loved the dreamer
The way
comes the blind commissioner, they've got him in a trance
One hand is tied to the tight-rope walker, the other is in his pants
And the riot squad
When the shy star goes forth in heaven
All maidenly, disconsolate
Hear you amid the drowsy even
One who is singing by your gate
His song is softer
comes the blind commissioner, they've got him in a trance
One hand is tied to the tight-rope walker, the other is in his pants
And the riot squad
comes the blind commissioner, they've got him in a trance
One hand is tied to the tight-rope walker, the other is in his pants
And the riot squad
Sometimes songs are done by singers that don't mean them
And at times I've done the same and couldn't sing them
At times I've written songs about
was his claim,
Hope one or two things might bring fame,
This is the last time you'll hear his name.
Nobody mentions Harry's inventions,
But do you
Fate points the finger
It is a double-barreled ringer
You're the one, you're the one
That's been touched by the singer
And then in the night cold
Fate points the finger
It is a double-barreled ringer
You're the one, you're the one
That's been touched by the singer
And then in the night
As the audience grew
Ted was growing impatient
As he swallowed his brew
"It's time to welcome the artist"
He heard somebody say
Saw a face in the floodlight
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