Morph the Cat

High above Manhattan town

What floats and has a shape like that?

Fans like us who watch the skies

We know it's Morph the Cat

Gliding like a big, blue cloud

From Tompkins Square to Upper Broadway

Beyond the Park to Sugar Hill

Stops a minute for a latte

He oozes down the heating duct

Swims like seaweed down the hall

He briefly digs your wiggy pad

And seeps out through the wall

Kind of like an arctic mindbath

Cool and sweet and slightly rough

Liquid light on New York City

Christmas without the chintzy stuff

What exactly does he want?

This Rabelaisian puff of smoke

To make you feel all warm and cozy

Like you heard a good joke

Like you heard an Arlen tune

Or bought yourself a crazy hat

Like you had a Mango Cooler

Ooh, Morph the Cat

He's all the talk in shops and schoolyards

Sutton Place, the Automat

Players playin' in da Bronx

Respect to Morph the Cat

Kind of like an arctic mindbath

Cool and sweet and slightly rough

Liquid light

Liquid light on New York City

Christmas without the chintzy stuff

So rich is his charisma

You can almost hear it sing

He skims the roofs

And bells begin to ring

Chinese cashiers can feel it now

Grand old gals at evening mass

Young racketeers

And teenage models

Laughing on the grass

Blessed Yankees have an ally

When this feline comes to bat

Bringing joy

Bringing joy to old Manhattan

All watch the skies for Morph the Cat

Watch the skies, watch the skies