Fog's 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 cafe

Smiling faces try to understand

I saw a shadow touch a shadow's hand

On Bleeker Street



A poet reads his crooked rhyme

Holy, holy is his sacrament

Thirty dollars pays your rent

On Bleeker Street



I head a church bell softly chime

In a melody sustainin'

It's a long road to Caanan

On Bleeker Street

Bleeker Street