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 Tomkins 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



It's kind of like an arctic mindbath

Cool and sweet and slightly rough

Liquid light on New York City

Like Christmas without the chintzy stuff



What exactly does he want

This Rabelasian 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



It's kind of like an arctic mindbath

Cool and sweet and slightly rough

LIquid light on New York City

Like Christmas without the chintzy stuff



So rich is his charisma

You can almost hear it sing

He skims the rools

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

Bringing joy to old Manhattan

All watch  the skies for Morph the Cat