Buckshot Lefonque Mona Lisas (and Mad Hatters)
And now I know
Spanish Harlem are not just pretty words to say
I thought I knew
But now I know that rose trees never grow in New York City
Until you've seen this trash can dream come true
You stand at the edge while people run you through
And I thank the Lord there's people out there like you
I thank the Lord there's people out there like you
While Mona Lisas and Mad Hatters
Sons of bankers, sons of lawyers
Turn around and say good morning to the night
For unless they see the sky
But they can't and that is why
They know not if it's dark outside or light
My brother's got a lot
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
Subway's no way for a good man to go down
Rich man rides but 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
While Mona Lisas and Mad Hatters
Sons of bankers, sons of lawyers
Turn around and say good morning to the night
For unless they see the sky
But they can't and that is why
They know not if it's dark outside or light
[Spoken, The Lady of Rage]
In a city of bright lights and fright nights
Where the strong survive and the weak take flight
And you either stand up or get beat down
In New York City
[Chorus, Frank McComb]
While Mona Lisas and Mad Hatters
Sons of bankers, sons of lawyers
Turn around and say good morning to the night
For unless they see the sky
But they can't and that is why
They know not if it's dark outside or light
[outro]
While Mona Lisas and Mad Hatters
Sons of bankers, sons of lawyers
While Mona Lisas and Mad Hatters
Sons of bankers, sons of lawyers
While Mona Lisas and Mad Hatters
Sons of bankers, sons of lawyers
Yeah, mona mona mona mona lisa
Sons of bankers, sons of lawyers
