Snow in a soulless city
Covers up the cracks in the road
As a wastrel buys her cigarettes
And wipes her pretty nose

Like a part-time Elvis imitator
These streets I knew so well
Have been pasted beyond recognition
With a temporary smell

Now the midnight train eases out
Leaving everyone marooned
And without her it might as well be the
Surface of the moon

So from the well-swept streets of Jackson Heights
To the dockside drudgery
Everything´s now a replica
Of what it used to be

But since they tarted up the trenches
And painted the bridges blue
It seems less like a home to me
Than just a place they bury you

Now we´re lit up like a cathedral
In our frozen concrete ruin
And without her it might as well be the
Surface of the moon

So I need her and I love her
That is true
But I´m stuck here like some shipwreck
Still holding on to you

But when they beat out the tramps
And patch up the slums
Everything will be fine
There´ll be a new facade
For us to hide behind

So on the ancient trails of our coupling
In the places we used to meet
I am amazed by the lack of memories
That I thought would flood through me

And the riverside where we first kissed
Has now been reduced
To a phoney old world market
Where only shoppers get seduced

Now your arms embrace me strangely
In your unfamiliar room
And for all I care, it might as well be the
Surface of the moon
Yeh for all I care it might as well be the
Surface of the moon