... Now I know that Spanish Harlem aren't just pretty words to say, but somehow I knew that my Lisa would always make things right. I remember how she'd laugh when I'd tell her to promise me she wouldn't leave me until exactly one day after I was buried...didn't happen that way... never does. Subway's no way for a good man to go down... so here I sit on these "mean streets," wondering if it's dark outside or light? Panhandlin'... playing this old Martin... and prayin' for the people.

"Thank you, sir... God bless you..." I thank the Lord for the people I have found.

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