I'll go my way alone
This Broadway's got
They know not if it's dark outside or light
And I thank the Lord there's people out there like you
Subway's no way for a good man to go down
But they can't and that is why
While Mona Lisas and Mad Hatters
Sons of bankers, sons of lawyers
I thank the Lord there's people out there like you
Turn around and say good morning to the night
And I thank the Lord for the people I have found
It's got a lot of songs to sing
But now I know that rose trees never grow in New York City
Until you've seen this trash can dream come true
I thought I knew
For unless they see the sky
Rich man can ride and the hobo he can drown
You stand at the edge while people run you through
If I knew the tunes I might join in
Grow my own, my own seeds shall be sown in New York City
