I watch the pigeons as they go across the road tipping their noses
As the boys puff up in show and the girls run off alone
I watch a conversation weave between the branches of the trees
I see the seasons in the leaves, these are the stories that I read
Hmmm hmmm hmmm
I watch the pigeons in the sky, I watch the wind as they go by
They color in what with my eyes I am not seeing
I watch the turning of a page, flying above me in my place
These are the stories that I name, to know and show how they got older
Ooo la da da da da da da
I watch the people walking by beneath the silver studded sky
These are the stories that I like from in the days that mark my time
I watch the pigeons in the eves, they sit like music there to read
I hear them playing to the beat of New York City as it breathes
La da da da da da da, da da da da da da da