Sunday morning it’s 8AM
I’m looking through my window to the neighbor’s house
He’s making coffee I’m trying to pretend that I don’t really see him

He looks out the window as he starts to dress
I wonder what he’s thinking
Maybe he’s early or maybe he’s late
Or running from last night’s date

chorus:
New York City there’s so many windows
So many worlds behind each one
New York City where the people are fast and the
Day and the night blend to one

It’s dark and dreary but I wanna go out
I take my umbrella
I head uptown to my favorite park
It feels like Paris in the rain

I read about the artists whose name is mine
Sculpted the face of Gertrude Stein
And two lovers are kissing nearby and I’m feeling like a postcard

chorus repeats

Shapes and forms and lines and colors
Touch and taste and sensing bravely

chorus repeats

Sunday night about 10PM
I’m passing by the window
It’s starting to rain again
My neighbor just left and his lights went out.