Only over my dead body. They tried to take it away from me. Numb to the fear, I think my city loves me. The truth hurts because it's all real and you can't sleep knowing that he lied still. So you lie still and cry still, while the city goes by your window outside. People are just raindrops in the windowsill, little red and yellow lights that just move past. Dealing with a heart that I didn't break. The expression on my face really doesn't show the new Manhattan glow. Here is a place where all the baggage just isn't as heavy. I've loved and I've lost. It's my city and I'll get high if I want to. All those other cities were practice. And I'll leave here over my dead body.