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作曲 : Al Stewart |
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"'Oh I come from Pittsburgh to study astrology' |
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She said as she stepped on my instep |
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'I could show you New York with a walk between Fourth Street and Nine' |
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Then out of her coat taking seven harmonicas |
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She sat down to play on a doorstep |
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Saying 'Come back to my place I will show you the stars and the signs' |
| [00:31.68] |
So I followed her into the black lands |
| [00:38.07] |
Where the window frames peel and flake |
| [00:42.24] |
And the old Jewish face behind the lace |
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Even now trying to get to see what's cooking |
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Just John the Baptist in the park getting laid thinking there's no-one looking |
| [00:57.99] |
And its eighty degrees and I'm down on my knees in Brooklyn |
| [01:09.93] |
Her house was a dusty collection of rusty |
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Confusion with landings and tunnels |
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And leaning bookcases and spaces and faces and things |
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Where twenty-five Puerto Ricans, Manhattan Mohicans |
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And Jewish-Italian Pawnbrokers |
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Lead their theatrical lives in their rooms in the wings |
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While outside in the black lands |
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The violent day runs wild |
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And the black and white minstrels run through the crazy |
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Alleys while the cops go booking |
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And ruthless toothless agents sneak around and there's no-one looking |
| [02:01.29] |
And it's eighty degrees and I'm down on my knees in Brooklyn |
| [02:09.60] |
And oh, I'm back in the city again |
| [02:21.33] |
You can tell by the smell of the hamburger stand in the rain |
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She spoke of astrology while muttering apologies |
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For coffee that tasted of hot dogs |
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I said 'That's OK, mine was cold anyway, and just grand' |
| [02:42.27] |
Then she lay on the bed while the radio fed |
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Us with records and adverts for cat food |
| [02:53.40] |
And I looked at her, holding my thoughts in the palm of my hand |
| [03:01.41] |
And outside in the black lands |
| [03:05.97] |
The evening came and went |
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And the bums in the street begging money for one last drink |
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Are hanging round the liquor stores trying to get a foot in |
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And the girl from Pittsburgh and I made love on a mattress with the new moon looking |
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And in the cool evening breeze I was down on my knees in Brooklyn |
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" |
