Sometimes the night comes clawing
Like a deadline you can’t keep,
When the dreaming comes too darkly
The river runs too deep.
I will cool your aching forehead
When the worries start to seep.
I’ll whisper to you softly,
And rock your world to sleep.
Ah, these cold Manhattan mornings,
They can hit you like a train,
When your phone’s already ringing
And you’re scared what it might say.
I will share the meals I make you,
Brush the tangles from your mane,
Clothe you in my arms,
And give you to the day.
The day’s decisions are relentless,
But you must make up your mind.
When you’re at sixes and sevens,
But you feel like eights and nines,
I’ll catalogue your schedule
I will take stock of the time,
Collect the good it gave you
And give you to the day.
And if I were the water,
You would kiss me like the land.
And if I were a gambler,
You would pay me in advance.
Even if I were a diamond,
You could crush me in your hand.
And if I was mistaken,
You’d already understand.
