Hula girl danced on the dash, as we rode through the town. Bongos played Jamaican rhythms, as the radio drowned. Hey taxi driver won't you sing me your latest song. He cuts so deep as we knifed, through the zombie-eyed throng. Two Pineapples in New York City, Where the girls are randy and the boys are pretty.
Buildings scream as they scrape the sky, the jungle swings while the night defies.
We toured the sights of the city, in a poor man's limousine. With the windows rolled up, Mr. Fuji, he captured the scene. While the lady in green waded in the incoming tide, The birds took the park, where the colors of life seem to hide. Stepping on the stones, at the corner of Bleecker and McDougal. Bobby played the square, while the juggler, he played the fool.