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 Lisa and Matt 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
You know not if it's true
It's dark outside, oh light
This Broadway's got, it's got a lot of songs to sing
If I knew the tunes, I might join in
I'll go my way alone
I'll grow my own, my own seashell of a song
In New York City
There's always no way for a good man to go down
A rich man can rise, and the whole world, he can drown
And I thank the Lord for the people I have found
I thank the Lord for the people I have found
I thank the Lord for the people I have found






While morning leaves us
And bad 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
No, 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
Yeah
Yeah
Yeah

Subway's no way
For a good man to go down
Rich man can't 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 morning leaves us
And bad 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
No, not if it's dark outside
Or light
No, not if it's dark outside
Or light
Thank you