Daybreak, and no one's strolling on the Brooklyn Promenade. As I slowly walk my dog, it seems there's no one in the world except her and me, I got deeply sabotaged, by what I don't recall, but it happened before this dawn I see, chasing last night's shady memories to Sunday on the Promenade. On Montague the shutters creak at the waking restaurants. Sunday on the Promenade, and beneath my feet the BQE sings a song that's just for me and
Velvet morning softly creeps and birds stir in the trees. It's time to drop the blinds and sleep. Close my eyes and I will dream of Sunday on the Promenade. On Montague the shutters creak at the waking restaurants. Sunday on the Promenade, and beneath my feet the BQE sings a song that's just for me as I walk my dog.