G C G [Verse]G C new york now was nothing but an ice-capadeAm G a cigarette, a fire-escapeG walked this line,C Am G with dust in our pockets for the bedford station line to take usAm crazyC D the drunkard playing the casioAm we’re quietC D everytime we start starin’ upAm and hearC D all the loneliest crickets play their violinsG C GAm aw what a shameC D a subway ride was never meant to last.
Fire Escape
Gregory Alan Isakov
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