Past Fills up the Air

Day breaks gentle, Saturday morning
Lower westside, way downtown
Back in the Village been a long time
Just kind of wandering around
I see a sign, it’s Jones Street
Trying to remember, did she live there
Or was it Bleecker, maybe West Fourth
Washington Square
Time whispers to me
Soft as a prayer
Wherever I turn
The past fills up the air

There was a coffeeshop on that corner
Espresso and cigarettes, just us two
Subway rumbling, under the grating
Used to carry me straight to you
Making love in the morning light
Running hand in hand through the rain
The sweetest moments disappeared
Dried up and blew away
Time whispers to me
A long lost affair
Wherever I turn
The past fills up the air