| Cathy’s hailing a cab like she’s hailing a storm
 | 
| Unto the streets of New York City
 | 
| ONce we’re inside, it’s a carnival ride
 | 
| That brings a white knuckle kind of dizzy
 | 
| She takes me up on her rooftop
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| Framed by a backdrop of watertanks and chimneys
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| She’s wrapped round a cigarette
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| Lecturing etiquette, while I look in the windows
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| Beneath me
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| We took in Saturday and it was medicine
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| And when nighttime came the skyline just swallowed
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| The moon
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| Cathy lays the blame on Thomas Alva Edison
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| And 60 million lightbulbs telling New York that
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| It’s noon
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| Ah, midnight strikes too soon
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| Midnight strikes too soon
 | 
| She says, «in New York City, They throw their
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| Wishes into wells
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| 'cause you can’t see a star, unless one hit you when
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| It fell -- ««And if even you caught one,» I say, «Who
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| Could you tell in this whole damn town who’d
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| Believe you?»
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| She smiled like a cat would to a pigeon on the roof
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| She says, «I look into windows for universal truths»
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| And we drank in the moment like whiskey hundred
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| Proof
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| «But if Orion fell,» she said, «I'd tell you»
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| The view from her roof could make your head
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| Just spin
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| It was like holding up the world in a tablespoon
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| And we drank it down, m every light in town
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| Like the sweetest, kindest medicine
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| I made my wish on a satellite dish
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| But still midnight strikes too soon
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| Midnight strikes too soon
 | 
| Cathy never seems to slow down
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| She’s a hurricane working a skyscraper town
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| She laughs at me, says I’m suburban bound
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| But the truth is I live on a highway
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| I come to this city for the solace of her roof
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| Every window tells a story in cold hard truth
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| As the world spins beneath me, I ask it for proof
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| That I’m living my life in my own way
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| Or will time just have its own say
 | 
| Midnight strikes too soon
 | 
| Midnight strikes too soon
 | 
| Midnight strikes too soon
 | 
| Midnight strikes too soon |