East Harlem
ZACH CONDON
Another rose wilts in East Harlem
And uptown downtown a thousand miles between us
She's waiting for the night to fall
Let it fall, I'll never make it in time
Let it fall, I'll never make it in time
Let it fall, I'll never make it in time
Sound is the colour I know, oh,
Sound is what keeps me looking for your eyes,
And sound of your breath in the cold,
And oh, the sound will bring me home again.
And oh, the sound will bring me home again.