Morph the Cat

High above Manhattan town What floats and has a shape like that Fans like us who watch the skies We know it's Morph the Cat Gliding like a big blue cloud From Tompkins Square to Upper Broadway Beyond the Park to Sugar Hill Stops a minute for latte He oozes down the heating duct Swims like seaweed down the hall He briefly digs your wiggy pad And seeps out through the wall It's kind of like an arctic mindbath Cool and sweet and slightly rough Liquid light on New York City Like Christmas without the chintzy stuff What exactly does he want This Rabelaisian puff of smoke To make you feel all warm and cozy Like you heard a good joke Like you heard an Arlen tune Or you bought yourself a crazy hat Like you had a Mango Cooler Ooh, Morph the Cat He's all the talk in shops and schoolyards Sultan Place, the Automat Players playin' in da Bronx Respect to Morph the Cat Kind of like an arctic mindbath Cool and sweet and slightly rough Liquid light on New York City Christmas without the chintzy stuff So rich is his charisma You can almost hear it sing He skims the roofs And bells begin to ring Chinese cashiers can feel it now Grand old gals at evening mass Young racketeers And teenage models Laughing on the grass Blessed Yankees have an ally When this feline comes to bat Bringing joy to old Manhattan All watch the skies for Morph the Cat