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
