Cold Hands From New York en Lightfoot Gordon

I came down from Albany to New York to find what I'd been missing.
I looked across the river to the city where the windows all stood glistening, I stood listening.
Into a tunnel I did rise, like a grave inside, but I was young and able.
When I came out the other end, through the smoke the winter light was feeble, unreadable.
I was optimistic though, a cabbie told me where to go, I thanked him.
A face of white a face of brown, here a smile, there a look of danger for a stranger.
It was too unreal for me, I found no one who trusted me,
there was no man could offer me a cold hand from New York.
Cold hands from New York, a voice within you cries won't someone please help me?
I'll do the same for you one day if you should ever pass my way and need me.

I came down to live alone in New York, the city of the living.
There were fortunes at my feet but most of men were taking, none we giving or forgiving.
Children ran and children played and roses grew in alleyways, I saw them.
There were men who lived in style
and others who had died where no one knew them cause they couldn't win.
There were parks where old men slept and dingy rooms where babies crept unwanted.
Till I began to ask myself if there was hope or if it mattered what the did or if they lived.
It was too unreal for me, I found no one who trusted me,
there was no man could offer me a cold hand from New York.
Cold hands from New York, a voice within you cries won't someone please help me?
I'll do the same for you one day if you should ever pass my way and need me.

I came down from Albany to New York to find what I'd been missing.
I looked across the river to the city where the windows all stood glistening, I stood listening.
There were prophets in the squares and people there who smiled and said, "forget it."
There were lovers in the park and there was danger in the dark, I felt it, so afraid of it.
There were preachers of the word and poets who were never heard, I heard them.
There were those who would not try to learn the measure of the lie they're living.
I heard a young musician play in a place where they paid you not to listen.
I heard a woman scream for help
while men stood by and offered their best wishes, that's how it is.
It was too unreal for me, I found no one who trusted me,
there was no man could offer me a cold hand from New York.
Cold hands from New York, a voice within you cries won't someone please help me?
I'll do the same for you one day if you should ever pass my way and need me.
It was too unreal for me, I found no one who trusted me,
there was no man could offer me a cold hand from New York.
Cold hands from New York, a voice within you cries won't someone please help me?
I'll do the same for you one day if you should ever pass my way and need me.