New York - Stephen Fretwell

Please can we go away

Get out of here somehow today

To a place I’ve heard on the radio never sleeps

I’ll get a job in a bar

And you can be a waitress

And serve cheap cigars

To fat mustachioed men in suits

You’ll look cute

And fuck what they say

And fuck it if they talk

It really don’t matter

We’re going to New York

Oh hold on to me

I’m gonna get you out I’m gonna set you free

To a place I’ve heard on the radio never sleeps

I’ll get a job in a bar

And you could be a waitress

And serve cheap cigars

To fat mustachioed men in suits

You’ll look cute

And fuck what they say

And fuck it if they talk

It really don’t matter

We’re going to New York