New York has this certain smell that I just haven't gotten used to
Although it isn't particularly bad
Like old clothes and old land and
Sewing needles and wool jackets
That you bought at the thrift store
While you were downtown freezing
You could've sworn it was 60 degrees that day
It smells of eating rice each day for lunch
And cheap dining hall cake
And the wind doesn't smell like the lake
And the lake doesn't smell like the sioux
And there's more color in the trees here
And you can't help but smell that too