| From way back here on the bandstand
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| She looked like a goddess in the lights
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| At some point in the set she’d turn her face and glance my way most nights
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| I’d take a little solo, I’d play for her, she’d smile, return the favor
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| I’d make the sweetest love to her with every semiquaver
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| «There's a sadness in your playing,"she said
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| «That penetrates my bones
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| Something in your intonation, something in your tone
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| Always understated, never overblown
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| My name for you is Sad Trombone
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| Yes, my name for you is Sad Trombone.»
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| It seemed like she’d found the secret key to my soul
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| And gathered up my broken life and somehow made me whole
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| We’d share a room together, my bandmates were all green
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| And they warned me 'bout some story in a movie they’d all seen
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| «There's a sadness in your playing,"she said
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| «That penetrates my bones
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| Something in your intonation, something in your tone
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| Always understated, never overblown
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| My name for you is Sad Trombone
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| Yes, my name for you is Sad Trombone.»
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| Now when the light goes out and the music stops and the curtains close
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| That’s when your heartbeat race
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| Sadness on your face, and you can’t take no more
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| I see you searching for your smile
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| We haven’t seen that in a while
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| Now when the light goes out and the music stops and the curtains close
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| That’s Sad Trombone
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| We never made much money, the ticket counts were light
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| We’d count the bars until we reached some hotel for the night
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| She was my morning coffee, the butter on my toast
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| 'Til she got a better offer from some outfit on the coast
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| Oh, there’s a sadness in my playing now
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| A desperate cry, a moan
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| Something in my choice of notes
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| Something in my tone
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| Sliding to the deepest bass from a lonely baritone
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| I guess I’ll always be the Sad Trombone
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| I guess I’ll always be the Sad Trombone
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| It’s an old, old story, and one you’ve probably heard
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| You start out in a major key, then you’re down a minor third
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| Aimlessly sliding, sinking like a stone
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| It doesn’t get no deeper, than the scraps that you’ve been thrown
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| But some things they just stay with you, long after they have flown
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| And it always comes back down… to the bone
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| And it always comes back down… to the bone
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| Down to the bone
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| Down to the bone |