| It’s time to end my holiday
|
| And bid the country a hasty farewell
|
| So on this gray and melancholy day
|
| I’ll move to a Manhattan hotel
|
| I’ll dispose of my rose-colored chattels
|
| And prepare for my share of adventures and battles
|
| Here on the twenty-seventh floor
|
| Looking down on the city I hate and adore
|
| Autumn in New York
|
| Why does it seem so inviting?
|
| Autumn in New York
|
| It spells the thrill of first-nighting
|
| Glittering crowds
|
| And shimmering clouds
|
| In canyons of steel;
|
| They’re making me feel:
|
| I’m home
|
| It’s autumn in New York
|
| That brings the promise of new love
|
| Autumn in New York
|
| Is often mingled with pain
|
| Dreamers with empty hands
|
| May sigh for exotic lands;
|
| It’s autumn in New York;
|
| It’s good to live it again
|
| Autumn in New York
|
| The gleaming rooftops at sundown
|
| Autumn in New York
|
| It lifts you up when you’re run down
|
| Jaded roués
|
| And gay divorcées
|
| Who lunch at the Ritz
|
| Will tell you that it’s
|
| Divine
|
| It’s autumn in New York
|
| Transforms the slums into Mayfair
|
| Autumn in New York
|
| You’ll need no castle in Spain
|
| Lovers that bless the dark
|
| On benches in Central Park
|
| Greet autumn in New York;
|
| It’s good to live it again |