Life in the street is the same every day
Life in the street is a marvelous play
Ladies and lovers and bankers and bums
Hurry along while the big city hums
People are frowning while others are [bad word] 
Music tumbling from every café
There’s all of the wonder of life and love
Out in the street with the blue sky above

There in the crowd one little man
Hurries along upon his way
Nobody much, and turning gray
Just one little man
But he has a girl
He’s still a man…
He has a young and lovely girl
Maybe she does demand too much
But who wouldn’t pay to feel her touch
Who wouldn’t pay, especially a man
Who’s turning gray…

He has no children, no home and no wife
He lives a kind of the Saturday life
Saturday evening [bad word] up the stairs
Launches his face in her deep golden hair
Why should he care if he pays for her charms
He can recapture his youth in her arms
And Saturday night he can live once more
Saturday night he can live just once more…

Then one awful day he climbs the stairs
Picks up a note beneath her door
What should he tear it open for
He knows what he’ll find
Poor little man, he’s left behind…
She’s gone away and he’s alone
She never even said goodbye
Where does a fellow go to cry
Where does he cry?...
Out in the street, beneath the sky…

Life in the street is the same every day
Life in the street is a marvelous play
Ladies and lovers and bankers and bums
Hurry along while the big city hums
People are frowning while others are [bad word] 
Music is tumbling from every café
And there with the beautiful sky above…