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