Cathy's hailing a cab like she's hailing a storm

unto the streets of New York City

ONce we're inside, it's a carnival ride

that brings a white knuckle kind of dizzy



She takes me up on her rooftop,

framed by a backdrop of watertanks and chimneys

she's wrapped round a cigarette,

lecturing etiquette, while I look in the windows

beneath me



We took in Saturday and it was medicine

and when nighttime came the skyline just swallowed

the moon

Cathy lays the blame on Thomas Alva Edison

and 60 million lightbulbs telling New York that

it's noon

Ah, midnight strikes too soon

Midnight strikes too soon



She says,