She has gone to New York City
That old suitcase holds no funny stories
I packed it once on her first birthday
Now that wasted shame has grown up with her
The streets are slick with dew and motor oil
A girl walks in and out of the morning sun
A barred window reflects the cloudless sky
No blue reaches those eyes
She has gone to New York City
Through that arch on a summer night
I went there once on her first birthday
Lay my burning head on the cool stone
It's raining blossoms down in the concrete park
A girl walks in and out of the evening shade
A broken angel weeps through her spray paint smile
No tears can reach me while I know I'm not responsible
I know I'm not responsible
But I want somebody to lie
And release me into the past
And I want to know what I knew
For the secret word to tell you that
I know I'm not responsible
I know I'm not responsible
But I want somebody to lie
And to lock me out of the years
And I want my problem again
And a secret word you will not hear
Goodnight my dear, goodnight my cold little one
Has your dream begun
She has gone to New York City
