Crossroads of the World

There are lots of loud noises in Manhattan, you know And the chaos will follow wherever you go It's my toughest of tasks just to hear myself think And it pushes my mind nearly over the brink. So I sit with my coffee looking over Times Square As I watch all the people going here, going there And it's Midnight plus One, or is it maybe plus Two? As I perch here on high well above all of you. Many women are pretty and sometimes well-dressed But the men go for shirts that've never been pressed. But I can't quite relate to these strangers I see; They enjoy the big circus out there in 3-D. But at least I am getting good use of my time By expressing my thoughts and thus making them rhyme While way down below, there, the chic fashionistas Aren't doing much more than taking in vistas Of super bright signs and the products for sale That light up the night while they make you look pale. The air is awash with electrical charge From billboards that loom and all look very large. But those mechanized sounds of the traffic outside Cannot hope to compete with the Muzak inside This two-tier café on good old Broadway Where mobs of touristas barge in for a stay. Well, at least I'm not tortured with Country and Rap While sitting here dutifully churning out crap; All those tunes that bombard me are painless to hear, But I can't say the same for my stanzas, I fear.