I see through the transparency of my lens
The four mysterious flats, a series of dark chambers
I am enraptured by a repetitive vision:
there is something there that excites me
My saliva runs thin and dry
Now here I am standing by my window in Marseille
Watching the sister ship of the Rafaello
Take my sister to America
From my bed I reach for my binoculars
And follow the steam spouting as my heart heaves with the waves
Three years have passed, Mother has divorced and my sister paid me a ticket to New York
The water of the East River spins more feverishly than in Marseille
Sister is off to work; I can't see her but I know she's crossing the bridge now.
That day she came back with a letter and a tear in her eye: her beau in Marseille proposed to her.
When she left me her apartment I walled up her window
Finally I could sleep! No more rumbling of tires crossing that bridge
No more snoring from my sister
The Big Apple was mine.