By the garbage cans the sits In her hands she holds a plastic bag She borrowed from the supermarket Her eyes starring holes into the night Open windows are her radio Luxury for her backyard bed
She knows every story Of all the gloom and glory This city wrote through all the years
You can't miss her cause she is Always talking to a mailbox Whispering secrets right into The darkness where you can't hear her Speak or talk but believe me that she is The princess of new york
Down 5th avenue she walks Dragging her body round the block Trying to collect her meal The parking meters are her friends For each one she's got a name Hello eddie how are you today ?
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