Through a window, a phone booth and a stranger, in dark glasses, jeans and black leather coat.
A railroad not far from here and you can feel the ground stutter and shake softly whenever the train races on past…
As the stranger stands in front of an old phone booth, in old New York City…
Where the ghosts from the days of flappers and rebels, wait for their redemption.
She is standing and sensing the ghosts from the past as they dance and drink.
The roaring 1920s leading to the depression of the 1930s.
The other side of paradise stands a lady dressed in jeans, boots and leather coat. She is staring…
Through a window, a phone booth with no phone, a decade with no reason and paradise lost.
Freddy Zalta 