Earlier in
my letter, I said New York had changed,
and so it has.
All but the park.
Of all Manhattan,
it's still the easiest place in
which to be alone.
But the park understands
a lonely man.
And when I see the trees on the avenue,
lean over the wall trying to get in,
I want to get in, too,
and hear the people sing.
Come from the west side,
come to the park.
Come from the east side, come to the park.
Spread all your worries on the green,
green grass,
And tell all your troubles to the sky
And watch the crazy world go by
And when I see the trees on the avenue
lean over the wall trying to get in
I want to get in too
Wait for me
I want to be with you
In the playgrounds, underneath the trees,
on the lake, at the zoo.
I want to be where you are.
Take me with you.
As I sit in my room
with your letter in my hand
An un welcome doubt
invades my mind
An d I get mixed up
And I wonder who loves me
And who doesn't love me
And I wonder who means it
And who doesn't mean it
Then all of a sudden I'm
as sure as sure can be,
I need you more than you ever needed me.
And so, when the walls of my room
start to close in on my silent phone,
I run to our favorite field
and walk the paths you loved
so much.
Sometimes in the park,
I try to trade my thoughts
for those of strangers
and borrow small pieces of their lives
as they hurry by.
You should have seen
the fella I was out with last night.
You know where he took me?
One chance he took me.
Mama, can I buy something?
Mama, can I? We'll see.
Why, it's disgraceful.
After all,
what do the drama critics know
about art in the theater?
I mean real art.
Now you take my last play,
the big scene where I go...
Can I, Mama? Can I? Please, Mama?
After a while...
Hey, Moe, how'd you make
out last night, huh, Moe?
Ah, same old thing.
Just a lot of heavy breathing.