Talking Back to The Night — текст песни (Steve Winwood)

High above the heat of a summer new york street

An out-of-work musician plays a solo saxophone

Hes 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 hes losing and hes using

And he says hes doing fine



And they look from such a height

That somehow its all right

Theyre talking back to the night

Its all that they can do

Talking back to the night

Its how they make it through

If you listen you can hear them

Their voices draw you near them

Theyre 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 hes trying hard to make it

And hes 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 its no more than he needs