Ticket machine, rolling lamps
|
And the gray faces of the walls
|
The magazine in the corner hides the pages crouched
|
With photos of women
|
They lose their collars at midnight fox
|
Even men of famous names
|
This is the escape, the forgetful farewell
|
With the secret of change
|
Wanderers in the subways, a few dark shadows
|
Wanderers in the subways, they want little
|
Wanderers in the subways are forgotten
|
They collect pennies for sausage rolls
|
People rush from the cinemas
|
Broken interpretation, emptiness settles in it
|
And they with him
|
It won't take any time at midnight
|
On men with winter faces
|
The night breathed on them, mixing artificial colors
|
From shop windows
|
Wanderers in the subways, a few dark shadows
|
Wanderers in the subways, they want little
|
Wanderers in the subways are forgotten
|
The vagrants in the subways are a night shift
|
Wanderers in the underpasses, without scarves
|
Wanderers in the subways are forgotten
|
Wanderers in the subways, a few dark shadows
|
Wanderers in the subways, they want little
|
Wanderers in the subways, a few dark shadows
|
Wanderers in the subways, they want little
|
Wanderers in the subways, a few dark shadows
|
Wanderers in the subways, they want little
|
Wanderers in the subways, a few dark shadows
|
Wanderers in the subways, they want little
|
Wanderers in the subways, a few dark shadows
|
Wanderers in the subways, they want little
|
Wanderers in the subways, a few dark shadows
|
Wanderers in the subways, they want little
|
Wanderers in the subways, a few dark shadows
|
Wanderers in the subways, they want little |