High above Manhattan town    What floats and has a shape like that    Fans like us who watch the skies    We know it's the 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 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 roofs    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    When this feline comes to bat    Bringing joy to old Manhattan    All watch the skies for Morph the Cat