Текст песни New York Times (Bagatelle) с переводом

Summer evenings on the heights in Brooklyn

Talking together as the river rolls by

In this city, the bells are ringing

Another day, another golden sky

Laugh together, Manhattan skyline

Danced till the morning, a downtown train

The park that evening, the cleaver byline

Will it ever be the same again?

Because I’m not thinking of the lights of L. A

And I’m not missing those great key lines

But in the evening in this far off land

I’m just thinking of the New York Times

On the river out to Staten Island

On the subway, we laughed so hard

This land is your land, this land is my land

Where we were sure we’d never have to part

And I’m not thinking of the lights of L. A

And I’m not missing those great key lines

And in the evening when I’m so far away

I’m just thinking of the New York Times

And as I sit here in this desert sunshine

And keep that flag pole pumping everyday

I think of you and me out on the island

So much that we still have to do and to say

And I’m not thinking of the lights of L. A

And I’m not missing those great key lines

But in the evening when I’m so far away

I’m just thinking of the New York Times

Oh, I’m not thinking of the lights of L. A

And I’m not missing those great key lines

And in the evening when I’m so far away

I’m thinking of the New York

Thinking of the New York

Thinking of the New York Times!

Oh yeah…

(Ohh… Doo doo doo doo…)

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