I wrote a song a long time ago called "New York". I was living in a small attic apartment in Brooklyn Heights where I looked after two cats, learned the definition of shabby chic, and discovered The Moosewood Cookbook.
I wrote this song the afternoon after the Macy's Day Parade.
You think it might have been a miracle
America is floating down 5th Avenue
she looks at you with snowflakes on her eyelashes
all you can do is shake your head in wonderment
and wonder who you were before you breathed the fumes
of autumn leaves discarded on the avenues of New York.
The stars are getting brighter over Brooklyn now
a hooker wishes on Orion anyhow
the windowed homes are orange and red with yellowed glow
and you wish you could stop from feeling so alone
you search for his brown eyes every time you turn around
and you make a wish on every penny on the ground in New York.