Words and music
By Ann Hampton Callaway

When I walk outside my door I have a ball
Ev'ry short girl's with a guy who's ten feet tall
Studs walk by in chains and leather
Girls wear fur coats in hot weather
Who knows who you'll meet on the street?

Men in pinstripe suits fly by on roller skates
Ev'ry kind of couple's going out on dates
Nothing ever quite surpasses
Great Garbo in sunglasses
Let your eyes just follow along


New York City is a walking picture show
Where ev'rybody is a star in cameo
And you can go around the world in just one place
When you travel face to face

I know which stores in the Village have a cat
And the names of people on the stoops who chat
I always smile at each palm reader
You don't know when you might need her
Bag ladies get my doggie bags

Artists and the pushcart vendors pave the way
Cappuccino lines ‘em in at each café
People crowd around break dancers
While fanatics sell their answers
In a Technicolor parade



People wearing Sony Walkmans keep their beat
But the guys with ghetto blasters do compete
Classical and jazz musicians
On street corners trade traditions
That's a perfect score and what's more


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