Through a window, a phone booth and a stranger, in dark glasses and a blue jean suit. A railroad not far from here and you can feel the ground stutter and shake softly… As the stranger stands on front of an old phone booth, in old New York City… Where the ghosts from the days of flappers and rebellion… She is standing and feeling the legends from the past as they dance and drink towards the depression waiting for them on the other side of paradise.
Through a window, a phone booth with no phone, a decade with no reason and paradise lost.

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