"Spanish Harlem" are not just pretty words to say I thought I knew But now I know that rose trees never grow in New York City Until you've seen this trash can dream come true Stand at the edge while people run you through I thank the Lord There are people out there like you I thank the Lord There are people out there like you For Mona Lisas and Mad Hatters Sons of bankers, sons of lawyers Turn around and say "Good Morning" to the Night. For unless they see the sky But they can't and that is why They know not if it's dark outside or Light Broadway's got a lot of songs to sing If I knew the tunes I might join in I go my way alone I grow my own, my own seed shall be sown in New York City Subway's no way for a good man to go down Rich man can ride and the hobo, he can drown I thank the Lord for the people I have found I thank the Lord for the people I have found For Mona Lisas and Mad Hatters Sons of bankers, sons of lawyers Turn around and say "Good Morning" to the Night. For unless they see the sky But they can't and that is why They know not if its dark outside or Light |
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