Bleeker Street:
Fog's rollin' in off the East River bank
Like a shroud it covers Bleecker 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 Bleecker Street
A poet reads his crooked rhyme
Holy, holy is his sacrament
Thirty dollars pays your rent
On Bleecker Street
I head a church bell softly chime
In a melody sustainin'
It's a long road to Caanan
On Bleecker Street
Bleecker Street
This is probably my favorite song ever. It's depressing, deep, and good to just listen to. I feel like posting something not at all about me, that's why this is here.