- cifra   
  
      
   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 staion 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.