"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