What a brazen & eclectic promise you are!
With your sunsets in tunnels
And your empty shopping centers,
The prisons that you have made into gardens
Where we are urged to bite the apple again...

What a brazen & terrifying storm you were!
With your cool + festering trains,
Married together yet never speaking
And your tendrils of glowing fingers
That you have told us to forget...

What a solemn vow you make
To ev'ry one of your lovers.
You push us forward
& Push us away,
Never ever telling us to stay.

Move on, fledglings,
For I am just a place—
A place to curse and a place to weep for,
But a place in the end that you must be able to leave.

What a drab & gray face you will be!
With your silhouette in the distance
And your farewell kiss on my lips,
Your blessing in hickeys across the sky I depart though—
What a person you will be,
New York,
When I will no longer meet you.