The Streets Of New York

The streets of New York
a maze made of iron and stone.
A labyrinth complete,
with edges that cut through the bone.

They come by the millions,
the hipster, the prince and the clown.
They come cause they know that
somethings going down
on the streets of New York.

The streets of New York
wind and turn in their own crooked way.
A motherless child,
so reckless at work and at play.

Still-born buildings abound,
corporations of steel,
long lines at the lost and found
all serve to reveal
the streets of New York

The streets of New York
have faces only mothers could love.
From rich boys in silk,
to panhandlers who cant get enough.

Drifters ride on the subways,
hustlers roam through the night.
Tourists come back again and again
until they get it right
on the streets of New York.

The streets of New York
unfold like a matchmakers dream.
Day becomes night,
through canyons of concrete and steam.

Juliet on the rooftops,
Romeo underground.
Late at night when their lips meet,
you cant hear a sound
on the streets of New York.

The streets of New York
have places where two hearts can meet.
The west side, uptown
or down here on Revington Street.

Meet me tonight by the station,
meet me in Washington Square.
Well drink wine and dance on the moonlight,
and Ill hold you in the air
on the streets of New York.