Mona Lisas And Mad Hatters
And now I know Until you've seen While Mona Lisas and Mad Hatters this Broadway's got Subway's no way for a good man to go down
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
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
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
It's got a lot of songs to sing
If I knew the tunes I might join in
I'll go my way alone
Grow my own,
my own seeds shall be sown in New York City
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
