I think my heart is being kicked around

Somewhere in Brooklyn,

Or some back alley in SOHO,

On some dirty street corner,

Because it no longer lives inside my chest.

And I go down to one knee so often,

And I wish I could say so much more;

But the nights are so dark — and oh my God,

The days are endless.

Why did she lie to me?

And I wonder if their is a lonely woman walking

The streets of Spanish Harlem,

Hoping that someone is thinking of her.

Or a girl looking out over an ocean

In some far away place,

Thinking of eyes not yet looked into.

And I could tell her so much.