Footsteps in snowfall out on the Queensboro Bridge
Children will never know how it used to be when artists ruled
Schools don't really teach that sort of thing anymore
Fresh green grass turned frozen brown and crumbled
After that cruel winter blew through town like an atomic bomb
Still silently sleeping in a state of suspended animation
Now the new season of warmth has returned around
To bring us back to those olden days of future's past fascinations
The next generation is breathing fresh breaths again
All thawed out growing wild ideas through wide eyes
Creating a youthful new legacy of hopeful technicolor fantasies
Thriving with newborn energy for the very first time
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