As the night grows older;
and evening crosses the water
I find myself talking
To a New York Jew,
A old friend of mine

We talk about Marx
A utopian, but no fool
I tell him he must go to bed,
It's late in New York
Even later here..........
We talk some more of money
And the morality of it's use

As I await my lawyer,
To give me some bad news

I think of God now, no Atheist I
But then I think of time
As the eyes mist
And the thoughts die
And I should be so helpless
Who once was full of pride