Twelve Thirty

I used to live in New York City

Ev'rything there was dark and dirty

Outside my window was a steeple

With a clock that always said twelve-thirty

Young girls are coming to the canyon

And in the morning I can see them walking

I can no longer keep my blinds drawn

And I can't keep myself from talking

At first so strange to feel so friendly

To say "Good morning" and really mean it

To feel these changes happenin' in me

And not to notice 'til I feel it

Cloudy waters cast no reflection

Images of beauty lie there stagnant

Vibrations bounce in no direction

But lie there shattered into fragments

Young girls are coming to the canyon

And in the morning I can see them walking

I can no longer keep my blinds drawn

And I can't keep myself from talking, talking, talking