| 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
|
| Until you’ve seen these trash can dreams 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 tune I might join in
|
| Oh, and go my way alone, 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, oh
|
| 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
|
| 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
|
| Until you’ve seen these trash can dreams come true
|
| And stand at the edge while people run you through
|
| And I thank the Lord, there’s people out there like you, yeah
|
| I thank the Lord, there’s people out there like you, oh
|
| While Mona Lisas and Mad Hatters
|
| Sons of bankers, sons of lawyers
|
| Turn around and say good morning to the night
|
| Well 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 |