(chorus:) Of passion, love, and bravery A brown bag lunch, and a mug of tea, Through gates of horn and ivory, We're dreaming in Hell's Kitchen.
A pugnacious politician in his armor-plated suit Propitiates the wealthy while he fiddles with his flute He's crusader, Alexander, and Napolean to boot He's seeking fresh objectives on the borders of the Kitchen So there's this one and there's that one, Gracie Mansion & the ‘Street, Denouncing some poor devil who has nothing left to eat, And he's not allowed to sleep here so he'd best stay on his feet For we care so much about him that we'll kick him from the Kitchen.
There's many on the breadline who never tried to fight And there's many that have earned their bread by working day and night But with all their sweat and labor was there chance that saw them right While a hazard of the dice left the others by the kitchen? He stinks and he's a drunkard, that bum we just passed by And I think but for the grace of God that likewise there go I And the buck inside his cup is less compassion for a sigh Than libation when I'm dreaming in Hell's Kitchen.
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Copy to Clipboard: (chorus:) Of passion, love, and bravery A brown bag lunch, and a mug of tea, Through gates of horn and ivory, We're dreaming in Hell's Kitchen.
A pugnacious politician in his armor-plated suit Propitiates the wealthy while he fiddles with his flute He's crusader, Alexander, and Napolean to boot He's seeking fresh objectives on the borders of the Kitchen So there's this one and there's that one, Gracie Mansion & the ‘Street, Denouncing some poor devil who has nothing left to eat, And he's not allowed to sleep here so he'd best stay on his feet For we care so much about him that we'll kick him from the Kitchen.
There's many on the breadline who never tried to fight And there's many that have earned their bread by working day and night But with all their sweat and labor was there chance that saw them right While a hazard of the dice left the others by the kitchen? He stinks and he's a drunkard, that bum we just passed by And I think but for the grace of God that likewise there go I And the buck inside his cup is less compassion for a sigh Than libation when I'm dreaming in Hell's Kitchen.
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