| When my high top sneakers hit the ground
|
| On the run from heavens' hand me downs
|
| I want to see your face
|
| When I fall from grace, baby
|
| Hold me close in the New York night
|
| A holy ghost or a satellite
|
| And promise me it will be okay
|
| Your mother dreamed of a better day
|
| Storefront gypsies laying tarot cards
|
| On my TV they’re still playing God
|
| I’m sick of politricks
|
| I need another kiss, baby
|
| Hold me close in the New York night
|
| A holy ghost or a satellite
|
| And promise me it will be okay
|
| Your mother dreamed of a better day
|
| And if you ever change your mind
|
| I’d feel a lot better
|
| Looking for the perfect crime
|
| Or giving up, never baby, no
|
| From the desert to this love stained town
|
| I still find comfort in the underground
|
| It’s written in my soul
|
| It’s unconditional, baby
|
| Hold me close in the New York night
|
| A holy ghost or a satellite
|
| And promise me it will be okay
|
| Your mother dreamed of a better day and
|
| Hold me close in the New York night
|
| Be my ghost, be my satellite
|
| And promise me it will be okay
|
| When we touch down at JFK
|
| Lal, lal, la, la, la
|
| Lal, lal, la, la, la
|
| Lal, lal, la, la, la
|
| Lal, lal, la, la, la
|
| Lal, lal, la, la, la |