(Gregory Alan Isakov & Ilan Isakov, additional words by Steve Varney)

silver-wing-ed, broken english, boys they smoke
talk and joke
above the water

New York lady, holding in her heavy hand
sacred lantern, guiding dawn

quit all that looking back
i quit all of that

casting glances backwards, but it’s not your fault
turned to salt for wondering

in your braids and heavy pages, we were folded
kiss the cold and dirty ground

quit all that looking back
i quit all of that

seasons wake with sleeping birds now flying south
covered mouth, we watch in awe

fallen pines to shape the skyline
take me there
beneath the barren colored moon

quit all that looking back
i quit all of that

greeting all the masses
from their teeming shores
she was born with open eyes

her color . . . is coming back