"Пожалуй, у Б.Б. Кинга нет ничего печальней, чем этот блюз. Но, впрочем, мне хочется быть сейчас грустным. Блюз соткан из печали. Так тебе скажет любой негр в Новом Орлеане. "(с) Вишневский "Одиночество в сети"
Well now it's three o'clock in the morning And I can't even close my eyes Three o'clock in the morning baby And I can't even close my eyes Can't find my baby And I can't be satisfied
I've looked around me And my baby she can't be found I've looked all around me, people And my baby she can't be found You know if I don't find my baby I'm going down to the Golden Ground That's where the men hang out
Goodbye, everybody I believe this is the end Oh goodbye everybody I believe this is the end I want you to tell my baby Tell her please please forgive me Forgive me for my sins