Fog's rollin' in off the East River bank   Like a shroud it covers Bleeker Street   Fills the alleys where men sleep   Lies 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 head a church bell softly chime   In a melody sustainin'   It's a long road to Cainan   On Bleeker Street   Bleeker Street