| We walked all night in the pouring rain
|
| Made the coast by morning
|
| Found an old abandoned carnival by the sea
|
| There were no seats on the ferris wheel
|
| And only one horse on the carousel
|
| So I jumped on his back to get a ride for free
|
| Free like the wind rising up the Eastern shore
|
| Blowing back my un-tucked shirt tail
|
| Filling up my empty pockets
|
| And a song was coming to me
|
| But by night I couldn’t hear it anymore
|
| Anymore
|
| I’ve stopped dreaming of love
|
| Anymore
|
| I can’t believe the things I’m thinking of
|
| Anymore, anymore
|
| Mirrah, she’s a friend of mine
|
| She gives her love to artists
|
| It’s her way of brushing her humanity
|
| She stays long enough to feel the pain
|
| And to fill up on their vision
|
| When she’s drunk she says she’s still in love with me
|
| Me, I spend my days singing new songs on the subway
|
| For the ones who stop to listen
|
| Who will pay me mind or money
|
| And I go right on singing as the train rolls in
|
| To take them far away
|
| Far away
|
| They miss the best part of the show
|
| Far away
|
| For a place they don’t really wanna go
|
| Far away, far away
|
| Well I went to see this friend of mine
|
| He lives down in New York City
|
| Says that’s the only place a poet needs to be
|
| Says there’s life outside the window pane
|
| And benches by the river
|
| And a song in every stranger’s eyes you see
|
| See me on the street with my pocket pad of paper
|
| Making sense of all the madness
|
| With my crisp iambic meter
|
| And nobody dares to tell me
|
| New York City doesn’t need me after all
|
| After all
|
| I am just a mortal man
|
| After all
|
| I’m just trying to do the very best I can
|
| After all, after all, after all |