Bleecker Street

Fog's rollin' in off the East River Bank

Like a shroud, it covers Bleecker Street

Fills the alleys where men sleep

Hides the shepherd from the sheep

Voices leaking from a sad café

Smiling faces try to understand

Saw a shadow touch a shadow's hand

On Bleecker Street

The poet reads his crooked rhyme

Holy, holy is his sacrament

Thirty dollars pays your rent

On Bleecker Street

I heard a church bell softly chime

In a melody sustaining

It's a long road to Canaan

On Bleecker Street

On Bleecker Street