We talk about going to New York where I can eat a pretzel that’s bigger than my face
You’d write poems on the plane about the church and being gay
I love everything you say
Hanging off your armtie chest through turbulence, say that you’ll stay up
Dreaming on the soft mannequin just who we down
You you the city
that pretty
we’re now
I I the city
We’d the Sinéad O’Connor
We’d up and feel small
Call your that you of the museum
on the fever
You you the city
that pretty
we’re now
I I the city
the where we’re you it’s alright
the where we’re the city
You you the city
that pretty
we’re now
I I the city
the the ooh
the the the city