Painted white, new in town
You weren’t hiring, but I was looking
In those days, my working days
Came in from Jersey, not from Brooklyn
Oh, my love, was it all in vain?
We always wanted money, now the money’s not the same
In a quiet moment at the theater, I could hear the train
Deep inside the city, your memory remains
Mary Boone, Mary Boone
I’m on the dark side of your room
Mary Boone, Mary Boone
Well, I hope you feel like loving someone soon
Crooked crime, petty cop
Not on the street yet, but it was cooking
In those days, the burning days
The one from Queens, not from Brooklyn
Oh, my love, was it all in vain?
We always wanted money, now the money’s not the same
In a quiet moment at the theater, I could feel your pain
Deep inside the city, your memory remains
Mary Boone, Mary Boone
I’m on the dark side of your room
Mary Boone, Mary Boone
Well, I hope you feel like loving someone soon
Book of hours, Russian icons
And sand mandalas and Natarajas
And hex-sign barns, Ando churches
And whirling dervishes and long exposures
And these two tunnels go west and east
Let me bring you my masterpiece
You’re the author of everything
Use this voice and let it sing
Mary Boone, Mary Boone
I’m on the dark side of your room
Mary Boone, Mary Boone
Well, I hope you feel like loving someone soon
Baby
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