Said we never should have let them go
But we let them go
To find a living in the foreign places
where the crazy faces made them feel so low
A thousand promises we meant to keep
but we could not keep
We built a city out of junkyard alleys
and landscape valleys, where dead men sleep.
Ah, but you were a playboy; you could always sing along
Even at those New York wakes you were
always good for a song.
And you said Hey New York, come on tell me,
can this be the promised land?
Close your eyes and you can feel all right in the teeming night
And set your face against the rush of feet
And the sidewalk heat and the cafe light.
Just remember what they said at home
When you went alone
That no one here is going to fake the time,
To read your mind or save your soul
But you were a dancer when there was dancing in the streets.
Night-time boys and Broadway Jigs helped keep your footwork neat
And you said Hey New York, come on tell me,
Can this be the Promised Land?