| Lyrics: | 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 out side or light.
This Broadway's got, its
got a lot of songs to sing,
if I knew the tunes I might join in.
I go my way alone, grow
my own,
my own seeds shall be sown, in New York city.
Subways 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 out side or light.
And 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.
Subways 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,
they know not
if it's dark outside or light |
