Lyrics:

Fog's rollin' in off the East River bankLike a shroud it covers Bleeker StreetFills the alleys where men sleepHides
the shepherd from the sheepVoices leaking from a sad cafeSmiling faces try to understandI saw a shadow touch a shadow's han
dOn Bleeker StreetA poet reads his crooked rhymeHoly, holy is his sacramentThirty dollars pays your rentOn Bleeker Street
I head a church bell softly chimeIn a melody sustainin'It's a long road to CaananOn Bleeker StreetBleeker Street