Lyrics:

Fogs Rollin In Off The East River Bank,
like A Shroud It Covers Bleeker Street,
fills The Alleys Where Men Sleep,
hides The Shepherd From The Sheep.

voices Leaking From A Sad Café,
smiling Faces Trying To Understand.
i Saw A Shadow Touch A Shadows Hand
on Bleeker Street.

the Poet Reads His Crooked Rhyme.
holy, Holy Is His Sacrament.
thirty Dollars Pays Your Rent
on Bleeker Street.

i Heard A Church Bell Softly Chime
in A Melody Sustainin.
its A Long Road To Canaan
on Bleeker Street.

bleeker Street