A promised phone call home toA Minnesota mining townFrom a tired hungry kidWhom the Greyhound just let downOn the January snow in his canvas tennis shoesThe kid just took his first walkdown the great Fifth AvenueWith a guitar on his shoulde rAnd a pocket full of songsHe's here to make his debutHe's here to right some wr ongsBut he's a bit short on referencesHis future's hanging looseJust another mid night cowboyon the great Fifth AvenueAnd in some noisy uptown night clubOr in a Bleeker Street cafeWith sweaty hands and shaky kneesHe takes the stageIt ain't n o friendly cityIf you haven't got the breadCause those who have ain't sharingWit h those who wish they hadSleeping out in subwaysKeeping warm on cheap boozeLivin g with the high and mightyOn the great Fifth AvenueAnd in some noisy uptown nigh t clubOr in a Bleeker Street cafeWith sweaty hands and shaky kneesHe takes the s tageIn a well guarded beach-houseOn the California shoreA man lives with his lon elinessAnd the songs he writes no moreNot real sure where he came fromAnd no pla ce to go toJust some hazy memoriesOf the great Fifth Avenue[The Swedish version is more or less a description of the Fifth Avenue - thechorus can be translated as "I take a taxi from Harlem / down to theWashington Square / five miles reflec ting / a whole world".]
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