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 head a church bell softly chime In a melody sustainin' It's a long road to Caanan On Bleeker Street Bleeker Street