Talking Back To The Night - Steve Winwood

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