These lips are chapped and kind of cracked
And barely even kissable
But now I'm back on the right track
And I think it might be possible
To send a wish upon a star and make it land in your backyard.
Cuz in the Bronx anything is possible
In the Bronx I tried so hard to get a hold of your mom so she can tell me where you are.

These days are lost, my nights are shot
And I'm barely even capable of getting off a single thought
As I make myself uncomfortable
At 49 minutes to 12, at this wasted wishing well
Cuz in the Bronx there might be a photograph,
In the Bronx, I pray to god, there's a photograph!
So you might remember who the hell I am or not.
Let's get it on!!

What seemed like pandamonium and the recreational hall last night
Was somewhat undermined by that video jukebox.
I thought, "My God! What's the prophecy?"
And possibly the subtlety of coffee stains at Astor place
I'm awkward on the C train.

At last we played for cash at the table hockey tournament.
Flourescent lights to save my life, as we kick back on the couch again.
Now thrift store paranoid on this 8th street weeknight void