It was you and me and a little thing named Irony....
all bundled up in hats and scarves the shade of sea.
Just you and me and Irony along for a ride.
Lets lift up our heads and cover our eyes—the sun pierces, the air slides.
You better learn the things you’ve been told.
I shouldn’t forget to be nothing but bold.
Irony watched our disaster unfold—the swift current of demise.
This sounds all too dramatic, lets talk more of sky.
It was a reflection of water, the Hudson beneath the statute green.
Why, those we’re sights I’d yet to see;
you, me and Irony hand in hand towards the Bowery.
You’re taller than I’d like you to be.
You seem rather short, is this how it should be?
They both have a hang up, that’s easy to see.
You, me and Irony--what a funny song we weave.
Us three, two we’s, one chance to be.
Each woe can now be shared with a smile.
No use rewinding the pain, it’s not worth the while.
Bowery. Hudson. Your keen sense of style.
The sky and it’s blue.
Irony, me and you.
