It's a snowy night, the cops shut down the freeway
big men in plows are out carving up the streets
Below them, jammed on a subway,
I'm with two hundred overbrushing snow off coats and shoulders
kicking snow off dress shoe feet You live six miles down this trolley car's trail
up above the red line, where the street musicians wail
Where Baby, we used to chase down coffee
on the sidewalk take in tunes
We'd drink in the waning hours
till we polished off the moon
Who knew the moon would fail
above the trolley car trail.
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