Grand Street

His foot held the door
To the alley in back
Where the hotel's kitchen let out

And the night butcher stood
'Neath a dim iron moon
And spoke to himself right out loud
Spoke to himself right out loud

I gave him some room
And waited for you
Sat on the steps like a kid

Polished my boots
On the back of my calf
And smoked like it was something I did
Smoked like it was something I did
That summer was thick
And as still as a nun
On the steps of St. Michael's on Grand

Who scowled at a window
Propped up with a broom
That aired every moan of a man
That aired every moan of a man
You spoke from behind me
"You look like a soldier
Guarding the president's train"

Taking my arm
A scarf on your head
As if, oh dear God, it could rain
As if, oh dear God, it could rain

His foot held the door
To the alley in back
Where the hotel's kitchen let out

And the night butcher stood
'Neath a dim iron moon
And spoke to himself right out loud
Spoke to himself right out loud