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Flying so high, trying to remember,
"How many cigarettes did I bring along?"
When I get down I'll jump in a taxi cab
Driving through London town to cry you a song.

It's been a long time, still shaking my wings.
Well, I'm a glad bird; I got changes to ring.

Savage night on a misty island. Lights wink out in the
Canyon walls.
Two old boys in a stolen racer. Black rubber contrails in
The unwashed halls.
And all roads out of here, seem to lead right back to the
Rock Island.

I've gone back to Paris, London, and even riding on a

I'll make love to you
in all good places
under black mountains
in open spaces.
By deep brown rivers
that slither darkly
through far marches
where the blue hare races.

My first and last time with you
and we had some fun.
Went walking through the trees, yeah!
And then I kissed you once.
Oh I want to see you soon
but I wonder how.
It was a new day yesterday
but it's an old day now.

Got a grand house out in the country.
Marble pillars holding the door.
Empty bottles lining the wall from the night before.
Got a Roller out in the garage.
But the wheels are stuck to the floor.
Got no reason to go anywhere--no friends call anymore.
I don't want to be me, I don't want to be me,
I know it's hard to see, But I don't want to be me.

"First Snow On Brooklyn"

I flew in on the evening plane.
Is it such a good idea that I am here again?
And I could cut my cold breath with a knife.
And taste the winter of another life.

A yellow cab from JFK, the long way round.