I used to live in New York City;
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Everything there was dark and dirty.
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Outside my window was a steeple
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With a clock that always said twelve-thirty.
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Young girls are coming to the canyon,
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And in the mornings I can see them walking.
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I can no longer keep my blinds drawn,
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And I can't keep myself from talking.
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At first so strange to feel so friendly -
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To say good morning and really mean it -
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To feel these changes happening in me,
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But not to notice till I feel it.
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Young girls are coming to the canyon,
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And in the mornings I can see them walking.
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I can no longer keep my blinds drawn,
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And I can't keep myself from talking.
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Cloudy waters cast no reflection;
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Images of beauty lie there stagnant.
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Vibrations bounce in no direction,
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And lie there shattered into fragments.
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Young girls are coming to the canyon,
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(Young girls are in the canyon)
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And in the mornings I can see them walking.
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(In the mornings I can see them walking)
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I can no longer keep my blinds drawn,
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(Can no longer keep my blinds drawn)
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And I can't keep myself from talking...
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Twelve-Thirty
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| Wilson Phillips |
