Twelve-Thirty

I used to live in new york city Every thing there was dark and dirty Outside my window was a steeple With a clock that always said 12:30 Young girls are coming to the canyon And in the morning I can see them walking I can no longer keep my blinds drawn And I cant keep myself from talking. At first so strange to feel so friendly To say good morning and really mean it To feel these changes happening in me But not to notice till I feel it. Young girls are coming to the canyon And in the morning I can see them walking I can no longer keep my blinds drawn And I cant keep myself from talking. Cloudy waters cast no reflection Images of beauty lie there stagnant Vibrations bounce in no direction And lie there shattered into fragments. Young girls are coming to the canyon And in the morning I can see them walking I can no longer keep my blinds drawn And I cant keep myself from talking.