at the corner of 53rd and the summer of '62
the first time i felt the tug of what i call the thread of you
street map across our thighs tracing the gateway
leaning in close i'm feeling your fingertip
street of dreams and sorrow
seven years up the road and two blocks south
on the run from a sudden rain with too much to talk about
on our knees we choose to end in st. bartholomew's
street of dreams and sorrow
this town is my every day but sometimes the grand design
marries a common road to an uncommon time
by the waldorf astoria at 49th and now
your face appears somehow in a passing car
street of dreams and sorrow