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It's 3 AM in New York |
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Sometime in 1995 |
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The other half of the world |
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The other side |
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It might have been warm outside, maybe cold |
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Who could tell? |
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Three of us stumbled into room 421 |
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At the Grammercy Park Hotel |
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It's 3 AM in New York |
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We sat for a while |
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We started to talk |
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We started to smile |
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Then he played a song I knew very well |
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3 AM in New York |
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At the Grammercy Park Hotel |
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He passed the guitar around |
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Over and over and over again |
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Till one of us broke a string |
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It was probably him |
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But the songs came out strong |
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They were loud, they were long |
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There were songs about girls, about boys |
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Sung a lot, screamed a lot |
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We made lots of noise |
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It's 3 AM in New York |
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It's the time of my life |
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Minstrels and maidens and heartbroken songs |
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Made me cry |
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And we were anonymous, androgynous |
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Bearers of truth |
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And the indie rock columnists would have freaked out |
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If they knew |
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It's 3 AM in New York |
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And I knew we were right |
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We were young, not so young |
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And in love with our lives |
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3 AM in New York |
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I went back to bed |
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Three lone true prophets |
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With songs in our heads |
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It's 3 AM in New York |
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And I just felt God |
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Lying awake in the dark |
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I was in awe |
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And I know in reality |
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It might not be true |
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But for three of us here in New York |
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It's all we could do |
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I know it's just songs, played on guitars |
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It's not rocket science, flying to Mars |
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And I know it's not much, but it's all that I have |
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To be sure that I'm real |
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Again and again |
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And If there comes a day |
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When my fingers don't work |
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Or my voice loses sound |
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Gives me grief, gives me hurt |
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Well, I swear on that day |
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When I lose what's worthwhile |
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From that day forth I never shall smile |
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It's 3 AM in New York |
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I feel fine, I feel well |
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Sound asleep |
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At the Grammercy Park Hotel |
