Another hundred people just got off of the train
And came up through the ground,
While another hundred people just got off of the bus
And are looking around
At another hundred people who got off of the plane
And are looking at us
Who got off of the train
And the plane and the bus
Maybe yesterday.
It's a city of strangers,
Some come to work, some to play
A city of strangers,
Some come to stare, some to stay
And every day
The ones who stay
Now I know, "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
You stand at the edge, while people run you through
And I thank the Lord, there's people out there like you
I thank the Lord, there's people out there like you
While 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
This Broadway's got, it'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 seeds 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
And I thank the Lord for the people I have found
I thank the Lord for the people I have found
While 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
For unless they see the sky, but they can't and that is why
They know not if it's dark outside or light