Текст Gregory Alan Isakov – 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.