The girl, the score, her soundtrack,
playing on six, down on eight
oh New York City
The cradle of my ignorance
Where I starved and danced and sang
Where I claimed my title
as queen of the paint-stained underground
and orphan of sixth avenue
I am home in rain and sound
taxi horns and bitter coffee
in snow-dusted Central Park.
Here I could breath and paint and be
as ever I found myself able
fingers stained in oil and ink
hair tight in a bun
singing low under my breath....
"Blackbird, Blackbird , Blackbird bye bye"
Oh New York, your Jazz, you saved me
dancing in summer with girls in black
splashing in puddles and laughing
singing and finding my savior
in the eyes of passing strangers
The girl, the score, her soundtrack,
playing on six, down on eight
I'm going home,
I'm coming home
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