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Gregory Alan Isakov
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Fire Escape
New York now was nothing but an ice-capade
a cigarette, a fire-escape
and we 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
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