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"?