# A New York City Sound *(folk-leaning, very pop; female lead with shared harmonies)* ## Verse 1 Little Japanese boy, grew so tall. Little Japanese boy, made more **than** most— if not all. Why? ## Verse 2 There was a phase—we issued permits; they built factories out of office space. Everyone was a worker, and numbers were like magic, Generating wealth in a meaningless dance. ## Pre-Chorus Using energy from the world— that too is a net. At the center is a core; so it is with every planet and every man Pick one or the other and find yourself a home— somewhere the ledger can’t explain. ## Chorus Call it **A New York City Sound**: folk in the grain, neon around. Hands on the beat, hearts keeping time; we tune our doubts, we sing the line. If New York wonders the kind of stories I tell All they have to do is ask. ## Verse 3 The only thing I’m wondering is if I’m gonna sell, like Serge gripping his sail— that’s like a painting; they were called FMVs. And this is called a song, and it won’t be long before people learn. ## Bridge Maybe there’s differences between people— like how to stay on time; a briefcase held like a purse by a frightened little girl, or a ’60s-style dance where my hair begins to swirl. At the center is a core; so it is with every planet and every man and still we pass the chorus hand to hand. ## Final Chorus (bigger) This **New York City Sound**— folk in the grain, neon around. Counting the turnstiles, counting the rhymes, we made a home inside our time. If I sell, let the truth be what I tell; if I don’t, let the song carry it well. ## Outro Factories into verses, permits into breath— numbers into chorus, and a city that never rests Until it feels a pain in their chest.
