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 heard a church bell softly chime
In a melody sustainin`
It`s a long road to Canaan
On Bleeker Street
Bleeker Street