Twelve thirty

Twelve-thirty (young girls are coming to the canyon)the mamas & the papas(john phillips)i used to live in new york cityeverything there was dark and dirtyoutside my window was a steeplewith a clock that always said twelve-thirtyyoung girls are coming to the canyonand in the mornings i can see them walkin'i can no longer keep my blinds drawnand i can't keep myself from talkin'at first so strange to feel so friendlyto say "good mornin'" and really mean itto feel these changes happenin' in mebut not to notice till i feel ityoung girls are coming to the canyonand in the mornings i can see them walkin'i can no longer keep my blinds drawnand i can't keep myself from talkin'cloudy waters cast no reflectionimages of beauty lie there stagnantvibrations bounce in no directionbut lie there shattered into fragmentsyoung girls are coming to the canyonand in the mornings i can see them walkin'i can no longer keep my blinds drawnand i can't keep myself from talkin'