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Mona Lisas and Mad Hatters C And now I know C Spanish Harlem are not just pretty words to say C I thought I knew Dm But now I know that rose trees never grow in New York City Dm Until you've seen this trash can dream come true C You stand at the edge while people run you through C And I thank the Lord there's people out there like you G I thank the Lord there's people out there like you Bb While Mona Lisas and Mad Hatters G Sons of bankers, sons of lawyers F Turn around and say good morning to the night G For unless they see the sky D But they can't and that is why C They know not if it's dark outside or light
This Broadway's got
It's got a lot of songs to sing
If I knew the tunes I might join in
I'll go my way alone
Grow my own, my own seeds shall be sown in New York City
(C)
Subway's no way for a good man to go down
Rich man can ride and 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
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