how was the party, how were the boys
hawking their rules, transgressions and toys
4 a.m. redux, chattering heels
rocking you homeward, streetlamps reveal
stop at your brownstone facing a highrise
dark at this hour, all curtains and blinds
but there's one beacon, one soul awake
up in the canopy one beam to take
tilt back your head, dear
tilt back your head
tilt back your head, dear
tilt back your head
see the light on the 40th floor
an apartment, a shelter, a core
that would be me sending out my best wishes
that would be me, that would be me
I'm not a stalker of exotic game
I don't believe in shouting out names
from bridges to sidewalks, echoing wide
distorting stillness that I keep inside
I can't recoil from love or despair
while I'm at home while you're down there
you don't require a guardian's eye
you've got the strength to submit or defy
tilt back your head, dear
tilt back your head
tilt back your head, dear
tilt back your head
see the light on the 40th floor
an oasis, a harbor, a door
that would be me sending out my best wishes
that would be me, that would be me
