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 

poet reads his crooked rhyme 
Holy, holy is his sacrament 
Thirty dollars pays your rent 
On Bleeker Street 

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