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Song
Saxophone
Winslow
·
Mar 2026
·
3:49
Alternative hip-hop with neo-soul and jazz-fusion elements. The track features a prominent
melodic saxophone lead
a syncopated boom-bap drum pattern with a crisp snare and deep kick
and a thick
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Intro
You'd better be quiet
You'd better be quiet
You'd better be quiet
Verse
The words have become tangled
Under the mirror are the keys
Returned them to where I took them
But where is the night taxi?
That takes me to my friends?
I won't be able to get drunk,
But I'll pretend I'm wasted
Verse 2
Ugh, I'm so tired, damn
I'm tired of myself more than anything
You can't really rest from yourself,
I carry myself everywhere
You can't fool yourself, even though I know all the details about myself
And I serve myself, I'm a good judge and a talented lawyer
Damn, I'm so tired of holding myself back
In my own latitudes around
Prohibitions, fences, and boundaries, imagine I once set them myself
I am both my prison and my prisoner
You're in a cell with yourself, wanting to make a deal, not trusting,
Because I know myself well.
Bridge
Do you hear the sad saxophone weep?
The wind sadly whirls the leaves, like a record in a waltz.
But I sit myself down, next to me at the table set,
Today I have the most serious conversation with myself.
Chorus
My pocket hands are empty, I came to speak,
And I know that you, like me, are tired of the war.
Show me, show me all my cards on the table.
And you put yours down so I can see.
Verse 3
Everyday life is monotonous, the city is monochrome,
Put on electronic calls
The outlines of the area sink behind the glass of the Balcony in search of prey
They dig the skins of the move, not finding their own
Those who are hunting them are on the prowl.
Everyone chooses what is more precious to them.
There is an increase in income, or a spiritual growth
Unfortunately, many people can't handle the news cycle anymore, like whistling flasks.
So much needed a track, a tray, and a drag.
They were hidden behind the bushes, spinning the pulls.
Somewhere in a high-rise building, there's someone hiding whom you could only call a bastard here with a stretch.
And the nerves are all aflutter, this morning's flutter—won't you suddenly become tomorrow the very one they're executing?
We live unstably, three days on foot here, and one in a carriage.
And hearing of a new ban and a new ban and a new ban
We darken like Pripyat, whether we're delirious or we see that the world around us has gone mad
The black anorak blended with the darkness. The news in your head is clearly not helpful, that's why you're sitting there, hammering away at the shells.
They've pulled you in like into the depths of a swamp.
These thoughts, so it will be, and alive as long as it lasts.
Somewhere inside, the same dialogue continues without stopping for a second.
Bridge
Do you hear the sad saxophone weep?
The wind sadly whirls the leaves, like a record in a waltz.
But I sit myself down, next to me at the table set,
Today I have the most serious conversation with myself.
Chorus
My pocket hands are empty, I came to speak,
And I know that you, like me, are tired of the war.
Show me, show me all my cards on the table.
And you put yours down so I can see.
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