Showered and blue-blazered, fill yourself with quarters You get mistaken for strangers by your own friends When you pass them at night Under the silvery, silvery Citibank lights Arm in arm in arm and eyes and eyes, glazing under Oh, you wouldn't want an

Night train Not a knife throw from here you can hear the night train passing That's the sound somebody makes when they're getting away Leaving next week's hanging jury far behind them Prisoner only of the choices they've made Ice cube in a dark drink