In Giovanni's room we all wrote notes
native sons we are to Harlem
about to go meet the man
but the price of the ticket
well that cost more than Sonny's blues
cramped up quarters sweating walls
just above my head, oh yea the devil finds work
no name in the street but if Beale street could talk
Lord have mercy on my soul, the fire in another country
will tell how long the trains been gone from 5th Avenue
next time we'll write about the evidence of things not seen
forget your blues, I already told you 'bout Sonny dem
Jimmy and Mister Charlie will carry that cross of redemption
I see you through the keyhole little man little man
go tell it on the mountain while I shout Amen
over here in this corner
by Shonnese C.L. Coleman
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