Now I know, Spanish Harlem are not just pretty words to sayI thought I knew, but now I know that rose trees never growIn New York CityUntil you've seen this trash can dream come trueYou stand at the edge while people run you throughAnd I thank the Lord, there's people out there like youI thank the Lord, there's people out there like youWhile Mona Lisa and Matt Hatters, sons of bankers, sons of lawyersTurn around and say good morning to the nightFor unless they see the sky, but they can't and that is whyYou know not if it's trueIt's dark outside, oh lightThis Broadway's got, it's got a lot of songs to singIf I knew the tunes, I might join inI'll go my way aloneI'll grow my own, my own seashell of a songIn New York CityThere's always no way for a good man to go downA rich man can rise, and the whole world, he can drownAnd I thank the Lord for the people I have foundI thank the Lord for the people I have foundI thank the Lord for the people I have foundWhile morning leaves usAnd bad hattersSons of bankersSons of lawyersTurn around and sayGood morning to the nightFor unless they see the skyBut they can't and that is whyNo, not if it's dark outsideOr lightAnd now I knowSpanish Harlem are not justPretty words to sayI thought I knewBut now I knowThat rose trees never growIn New York CityYeahYeahYeahSubway's no wayFor a good man to go downRich man can't rideAnd the hobo he can drownAnd I thank the LordFor the people I have foundI thank the LordFor the people I have foundWhile morning leaves usAnd bad hattersSons of bankersSons of lawyersTurn around and sayGood morning to the nightFor unless they see the skyBut they can't and that is whyNo, not if it's dark outsideOr lightNo, not if it's dark outsideOr lightThank you