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
Until youve seen this trash can dream come true
You stand at the edge while people run you through
And I thank the Lord theres people out there like you
I thank the Lord theres people out there like you
While Mona Lisas and Mad Hatters
Sons of bankers, sons of lawyers
Turn around and say good morning to the night
For unless they see the sky
But they cant and that is why
They know not if its dark outside or light
This Broadways got
Its got a lot of songs to sing
If I knew the tunes I might join in
Ill go my way alone
Grow my own, my own seeds shall be sown in New York City
Subways no way for a good man to go down
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
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