High above Manhattan town
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What floats and has a shape like that
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Fans like us who watch the skies
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We know it's the Morph the Cat
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Gliding like a big blue cloud
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From Tomkins Square to Upper Broadway
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Beyond the park to Sugar Hill
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Stops a minute for latte'
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He oozes down the heating duct
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Swims like seaweed down the hall
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He briefly digs your wiggy pad
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And seeps out through the wall
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It's kind of like an arctic mindbath
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Cool and sweet and slightly rough
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Liquid light on New York City
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Like Christmas without the chintzy stuff
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What exactly does he want
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This Rabelasian puff of smoke
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To make you feel all warm and cozy
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Like you heard a good joke
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Like you heard an Arlen tune
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Or bought yourself a crazy hat
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Like you had a Mango Cooler
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Ooh- Morph the Cat
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He's all the talk in shops and schoolyards
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Sutton Place - the Automat
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Players playin' in da Bronx
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Respect to Morph the Cat
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It's kind of like an arctic mindbath
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Cool and sweet and slightly rough
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Liquid light on New York City
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Like Christmas without the chintzy stuff
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So rich is his charisma
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You can almost hear it sing
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He skims the roofs
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And bells begin to ring
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Chinese cashiers can feel it now
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Grand old gals at evening mass
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Young racketeers
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And teenage models
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Laughing on the grass
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Blessed Yankees have an ally
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When this feline comes to bat
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Bringing joy to old Manhattan
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All watch the skies for Morph the Cat
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Morph The Cat
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Donald Fagen |