The blossoms are falling,    Making a white path across the grass   Thunderheads are building, your skin tightens   And you wait for the flash      Across the street, the boys are laughing    As they wash each other's cars   They turn up the hip-hop    White boys   Rapping with the black stars      Are you in the pocket of the moment in this particular second   Screwed into the socket of the moment in this particular second   Where time cannot be reckoned   Are you in the pocket of the moment      Overhead a rumble, it's not thunder,    It's a 747   The postman grumbles, it's past eleven   The street is sixth   It should be seventh      You hear the chiming of the ice cream truck   Rambling like in a dream    I hear your footsteps behind me   The sweetest eddy in the stream      Are you in the pocket of the moment in this particular second   Screwed into the socket of the moment in this particular second   Where time cannot be reckoned   Are you in the pocket of the moment      Are you in the pocket of the moment in this particular second   Screwed into the socket of the moment in this particular second   Where time cannot be reckoned   Are you in the pocket of the moment      Are you in the pocket of the moment in this particular second   Screwed into the socket of the moment in this particular second   Where time cannot be reckoned   Are you in the pocket of the moment