C                            Em                                Am
The guilty undertaker sighs, the lonesome organ grinder cries, the silver 
                        G
saxophones say I should refuse you.
    F                                  G
The cracked bells and washed up horns, blow into my face with scorn, but 
     Am                             G         
it's not that way, I wasn't born to loose you.
  C           Em              Am           G
I want you, I want you, yes I want you, so bad.
        C
Honey I want you.