Out the window, in the harbor, he saw a little ship
The moon was worn just slightly on the right
And they slow danced so the needle wouldn't skip
Until the room was filled with light
I'm drunk on a couch in Nashville
In a duplex near the reservoir
And every single thought is like a punch in the face
I'm like a rabbit freezing on a star
I asked the painter why the roads are colored black
He said, "Steve, it's because people leave
And no highway will bring them back"
So if you don't want me, I promise not to linger
But before I go, I've gotta ask you, dear, about that tan line on your ring finger
Everybody said she needed to move on
That he was all but lost, so deep was his coma
When he finally came to, the girl he loved was long gone
She'd married a banker and gone to Oklahoma
This old yankee warlock
Brushed back a gray forelock
And he motioned me to sign in the book
With no bonhomie
He proffered the key
Never once did he give me a look
Snow is falling in Manhattan
In a slow diagonal fashion
On the Sabbath, as it happens
Snow is falling in Manhattan
If it looks like it might be a bad one
The good caretaker springs to action
Salts the stoop and scoops the cat in
Tests an icy patch for traction