Snow in a soulless city
Covers up the tracks in the road
As a wastrel buys her cigarettes
And wipes her pretty nose
Like a part-time Elvis imi - tator
These streets I knew so well
Have been pasted beyond recog - nition
With a temporary smell
Now the midnight train eases out
Leaving everyone ma - rooned
And without her
It might as well be the
surface of the moon
So from the well-swept streets of Jackson Heights
To the dockside drudgery
Everything is now a replica
Of what it used to be
But since they tarted up the trenches
And painted the bridges blue
It see - ms less like a home to me
Than just a place they bury you
Now we're lit up like a cathedral
In our frozen concrete room
And without her
It might as well be the
surface of the moon
So I need her and I love her
That is true
But I'm stuck here like some shipwreck
Instead of holding on to you
When they beat out the tramps
And patch up the slums
Everything will be fine
There'll be a new façade for us
to hide be - hind
So on the ancient trails of our coupling
In the places we used to meet
I am a - mazed by the lack of memories
That I thought would flood through me
And the riverside where we first kissed
has now been reduced
To a phony old world market
where only shoppers get seduced
Now your arms embrace me strangely
in your unfamiliar room
And for all I care
it might as well be the
surface of the moon Yeah for
all I care
it might as well be the
surface of the moon