Pulaski Skyway
Sour tulips and scent of turpentine
The clinging colour
The vibrato of Times Square
Swept beneath the leather strap of my watch
After walking ten blocks through humid air
My lover's phone calls zigzags across Atlantic blur
Her voice full of manner
Yellow trumpets testify
Love love love
I've touched the hem of your dress
Oh this rhythm and rhapsody
Love for the lines and geometry
Of the Pulaski Skyway
In the rain with its gradient of grace
No more prickling uncertainty
Bruised blues in bellyache burgundies
I'll come and go with an appetite
Eater of stars in the night
No longer great thoughts across the granite edge of doubt
With smile like a Buddha
I'll soon see the neon please
Love love love
May blossom up from the dusty weeds
Oh this rhythm and rhapsody
Love for the lines and geometry
Of the Pulaski Skyway
In the rain with its gradient of grace
No more prickling uncertainty
Bruised blues in bellyache burgundies
I'll come and go with an appetite
Eater of stars in the night
Yes we slink like cats under the warm hoods of cars
Yes we slink like cats under the warm hoods of cars
Yes we slink like cats under the warm hoods of cars
Yes we slink like cats under the warm hoods of cars
