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,
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