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I used to think that New York City |
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Fell from grace with God |
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And innocence abroad |
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Waged a war for the underdog |
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When the snow falls |
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And Central Park looks like a Christmas card |
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I just looked beyond the bagman |
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And the madness that makes this city hard |
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I heard a basketball |
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Somewhere out beyond a chain link fence |
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Inner city prisoners |
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Argue for the right of self-defense |
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But there's a fast break |
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And every work of art wakes something in the soul |
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Just focus on the brush strokes |
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And the bouquets that the dancers hold |
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Spanish Harlem still sounds good to me |
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Yeah Mona Lisa's getting older |
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Standing in the shadow of Miss Liberty |
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While I walk along the west side |
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Down through Little Italy |
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Searching for the city that |
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That took away the kid in me |
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Spanish Harlem still sounds good to me |
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Yeah Mona Lisa's getting older |
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Standing in the shadow of Miss Liberty |
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While I walk along the west side |
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Down through Little Italy |
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Searching for the city that |
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That took away the kid in me, yeah. |
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Spanish Harlem still sounds good to me |
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Yeah Mona Lisa's getting older |
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Standing in the shadow of Miss Liberty |
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While I walk along the west side |
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Down through Little Italy |
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Searching for the city that |
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That took away the kid in me, yeah. |
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Kid in me, yeah |
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(Searching, searching, searching) |
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Kid in me, yeah. Kid in me, yeah. |
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Took away, took away the kid in me, yeah. |