The colours of the past were dripping
Uncovering who we are
The nights that I was cased in the arms of Astoria

And standing on the Fulton riverside
All of my life seemed to me like the lights out on the water;
Lonely notes of clarity

But didn’t they shine?

With the last tide, I will be there
And in the half-light, my eyes will see then

Nothing in this world was far enough
That mattered to me at all;
But then, I was blinded by the lights of Astoria

And didn’t they shine?

Didn’t they shine?