Sunday, November 30, 2014

"The poet read his crooked rhyme / Holy, holy is his sacrament / Thirty dollars pays your rent / On Bleecker Street" P. Simon #QotD

Fog’s rollin’ off the East River Bank
Like a shroud, it covers Bleecker Street
Fills the alleys where men sleep
Hides the shepherd from the sheep

Voices leaking from a sad café
Smiling faces trying to understand
I saw a shadow touch a shadow’s hand
On Bleecker Street

The poet read his crooked rhyme
Holy, holy is his sacrament
Thirty dollars pays your rent
On Bleecker Street

I heard a church bell softly chime
In a melody sustainin’
It’s a long road to Canaan
On Bleecker Street

"Bleecker Street", Paul Simon

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