Grand Central

Through the dirty windows of a train I saw things clearly…
    The tranquil waters of the Hudson I was passing by.
    It's the end of summertime. I'll be with you tonight 
and maybe
    we shall wake to autumn's splendor when our eyes meet 
the morning light.
    And I've been traveling alone in the caverns around 
Grand Central
    and I was traveling alone when the train broke into 
light.
    When I'm not traveling alone I am loving and gentle,
    but now I'm traveling alone, and alone can be all 
right.

    I left our house and home when winter turned to 
springtime.
    I put my past security aside.
    Past tears and pain I came to feel my strength.
    Clearly I came to know that on myself I could rely.

    And I've been traveling alone in the caverns around 
Grand Central
    and I was traveling alone when the train broke into 
light.
    When I'm not traveling alone I am loving and gentle,
    but now I'm traveling alone, and alone can be all 
right.

    Where water meets the beach there comes a separating
    Hills reach ever upward to the sky.
    The earth and air know their domains. The trains pass 
by
    and, clearly, something says the summer's over.
    The land's been parched and dried.

    And I've been waiting for you, for a touch that's warm 

and gentle;
    and I've been waiting for you to say you'd like to try,
    and I've been waiting for you, confused and 
temperamental,
    and I've been waiting for you: this truth I won't deny.

    In a year of thirteen moons we write so many tunes
    and, teary, we shall grieve the past and learn to leave
 what's passed behind.
    When I wake alone at night I sometimes think of you. I 
nearly
    fail to realize in the morning light I'll not be blind.