First time in New York, just seventeen 
in a motel full of poets, drunks and 
queens. I walk the city streets into the 
night to see Manhattan in the early 
morning light. On the corner of a 
street they laugh and talk, the young 
men watch me coming, block my walk; 
they see me slow right down - they 
know I don't belong. Then all at once 
... they all break into song.