Fire Escape
New york now was nothing but an ice-capade
A cigarette, a fire-escape
Walked this line
With dust in our pockets for the bedford station line to take us
Crazy
The drunkard playing the casio
We're quiet
Everytime we start starin' up
And hear
All the loneliest crickets play their violins
Aw what a shame
A subway ride was never meant to last
Autor(es): Gregory Alan Isakov
