Bill Withers - Stories Lyrics

Who will buy a glad story
That a young man has to sell?
Come into my house of glory
And I will treat you well.

Who will buy a sad story
That a widow has to sell?
Come into my house of lonely
And I will treat you well.

[Bridge:]
Young and old, we all have stories
That we all must try to sell
Tales of how you get to heaven
And how we been through hell

Who will buy a perfumed story
That a young girl has to sell?
Sleep with me on satin pillows
And I will treat you well.