Оригинален текст
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