LETRA
Use A− / A+ para ajustar a leituraMona Lisas And Mad Hatters
And now I knowSpanish Harlem are not just pretty words to sayI thought I knewBut now I know that rose trees never grow in 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 Lisas and Mad HattersSons of bankers, sons of lawyersTurn around and say good morning to the nightFor unless they see the skyBut they can't and that is whyThey know not if it's dark outside or lightThis Broadway's gotIt's got a lot of songs to singIf I knew the tunes I might join inI'll go my way aloneGrow my own, my own seeds shall be sown in New York CitySubway's no way for a good man to go downRich man can ride and the hobo he can drownAnd I thank the Lord for the people I have foundI thank the Lord for the people I have foundWhile Mona Lisas and Mad HattersSons of bankers, sons of lawyersTurn around and say good morning to the nightFor unless they see the skyBut they can't and that is whyThey know not if it's dark outside or lightAnd now I knowSpanish Harlem are not just pretty words to sayI thought I knewBut now I know that rose trees never grow in New York CitySubway's no way for a good man to go downRich man can ride and the hobo he can drownAnd I thank the Lord for the people I have foundI thank the Lord for the people I have foundWhile Mona Lisas and Mad HattersSons of bankers, sons of lawyersTurn around and say good morning to the nightFor unless they see the skyBut they can't and that is whyThey know not if it's dark outside or lightThey know not if it's dark outside or light
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