Fog's rollin' in off the East River bank
Fills the alleys where men sleep
Hides the shepherd from the sheep
Smiling faces try to understand
I saw a shadow touch a shadow's hand
On Bleecker Street
A poet reads his crooked rhyme
Holy, holy is his sacrament
On Bleecker Street
I heard a church bell softly chime
It's a long road to Canaan
On Bleecker Street