At the corner of 53rd and the summer of '62 The first time I felt the tug of what I call the thread of you There at the Lever House Street map across our thighs tracing the gateway Leaning in close I'm feeling your fingertip This time, this place This state of grace The promise of tomorrow Your thread runs through Park Avenue Street of dreams and sorrow Seven years up the road and two blocks south On the run from a sudden rain with too much to talk about On our knees we choose to end in St. Bartholomew's This time, this place This state of grace The promise of tomorrow Your thread runs through Park Avenue Street of dreams and sorrow This town is my every day but sometimes the grand design Marries a common road to an uncommon time By the Waldorf Astoria at 49th and now Out of the uptown flood Your face appears somehow in a passing car Wearing a tiny scar This time, this place This state of grace The promise of tomorrow Your thread runs through Park Avenue Street of dreams and sorrow
At the corner of 53rd and the summer of '62 The first time I felt the tug of what I call the thread of you There at the Lever House Street map across our thighs tracing the gateway Leaning in close I'm feeling your fingertip This time, this place This state of grace The promise of tomorrow Your thread runs through Park Avenue Street of dreams and sorrow Seven years up the road and two blocks south On the run from a sudden rain with too much to talk about On our knees we choose to end in St. Bartholomew's This time, this place This state of grace The promise of tomorrow Your thread runs through Park Avenue Street of dreams and sorrow This town is my every day but sometimes the grand design Marries a common road to an uncommon time By the Waldorf Astoria at 49th and now Out of the uptown flood Your face appears somehow in a passing car Wearing a tiny scar This time, this place This state of grace The promise of tomorrow Your thread runs through Park Avenue Street of dreams and sorrow
