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Snow in a soulless city covers up the cracks in the road |
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As a wastrel buys her cigarettes and wipes her pretty nose |
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Like a part-time elvis imitator these streets i knew so well |
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Have been pasted beyond recognition with a temporary smell |
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Now the midnight train eases out leaving everyone marooned |
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And without her it might as well be the surface of the moon |
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From the well-swept streets of jackson heights to the dockside drudgery |
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Everything's now a replica of what it used to be |
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And since they tarted up the trenches and painted the bridges blue |
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It seems less like a home to me than just a place they bury you |
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Now we're lit up like a cathedral in our frozen concrete ruin |
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And without her it might as well be the surface of the moon |
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So i need her and i love her that is true |
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But i'm stuck here like some shipwreck still holding on to you |
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So when they beat out the tramps and patch up the slums |
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Everything will be fine |
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There'll be a new facade for us to hide behind |
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So on the ancient trails of our coupling in the places we used to meet |
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I am amazed by the lack of memories that i thought would flood through me |
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And the riverside where we first kissed has now been reduced |
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To a phoney old world market where only shoppers get seduced |
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Now your arms embrace me strangely in your unfamiliar room |
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And for all i care it might as well be the surface of the moon |
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Yeh for all i care it might as well be the surface of the moon |
