text: And now I know
  Spanish Harlem are not just pretty words to say
  I thought I knew
  But now I know that rose trees never grow in New York City
  Until youve seen this trash can dream come true
  You stand at the edge while people run you through
  And I thank the Lord theres people out there like you
  I thank the Lord theres people out there like you
  While Mona Lisas and Mad Hatters
  Sons of bankers, sons of lawyers
  Turn around and say good morning to the night
  For unless they see the sky
  But they cant and that is why
  They know not if its dark outside or light
  My brothers got a lot
  A lot of songs to sing
  If I knew the tunes I might join in
  Ill go my way alone
  Grow my own, my own seeds shall be sown in New York City
  Subways no way for a good man to go down
  Rich man rides but the hobo he can drown
  And I thank the Lord for the people I have found
  I thank the Lord for the people I have found
  While Mona Lisas and Mad Hatters
  Sons of bankers, sons of lawyers
  Turn around and say good morning to the night
  For unless they see the sky
  But they cant and that is why
  They know not if its dark outside or light
  In a city of bright lights and fright nights
  Where the strong survive and the weak take flight
  And you either stand up or get beat down
  In New York City
  While Mona Lisas and Mad Hatters
  Sons of bankers, sons of lawyers
  Turn around and say good morning to the night
  For unless they see the sky
  But they cant and that is why
  They know not if its dark outside or light
  While Mona Lisas and Mad Hatters
  Sons of bankers, sons of lawyers
  While Mona Lisas and Mad Hatters
  Sons of bankers, sons of lawyers
  While Mona Lisas and Mad Hatters
  Sons of bankers, sons of lawyers
  Yeah, mona mona mona mona lisa
  Sons of bankers, sons of lawyers