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