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I used to live in New York City |
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Everything there was dark and dirty |
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Outside my window was a steeple |
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With a clock that always said twelve-thirty |
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Young girls are coming to the canyon |
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And in the mornings I can see them walkin' |
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I can no longer keep my blinds drawn |
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And I can't keep myself from talkin' |
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At first so strange to feel so friendly |
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To say "Good morning" and really mean it |
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To feel these changes happenin' in me |
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But not to notice 'til I feel it |
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Young girls are coming to the canyon |
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And in the mornings I can see them walkin' |
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I can no longer keep my blinds drawn |
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And I can't keep myself from talkin' |
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Cloudy waters cast no reflection |
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Images of beauty lie there stagnant |
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Vibrations bounce in no direction |
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But lie there shattered into fragments |
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Young girls are coming to the canyon (Young girls are coming in the canyon) |
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And in the mornings I can see them walkin' (In the mornings I can see them walkin') |
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I can no longer keep my blinds drawn (Can no longer keep my blinds drawn) |
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And I can't keep myself from talkin' |
