Soap Box Preacher - Robbie Robertson

Soap box preacher standing on the corner

And all the people they would gather round

You speak of faith with a blaze of glory

But those that fear they wanna knock you down

Nobody knows where you live

Where do you go in the naked night

All of the prophets that come before you

They can hear your lonesome cry

When you’re out there in the night

All alone

When you’re staring in the light

At the end of the road

In those proud shoes, coming on up the alley

In those proud shoes, walks all over the sky

Then he tipped his hat just like Don Quixote

And said don’t let the rapture pass you by

Heard a bugle blowing in the misty morning

What a haunting sound over Times Square

Heard of the ghost of 52nd Street

Looked out the door but no one was there

Out in the cold Harlem rain

I went looking for this minstrel man

Played me a song to ease the pain

With a Salvation Army band

When you’re out there on the dark

All alone

When you’re sleeping in the park

At the end of the road

In the neon wilderness and the ashphalt jungle

He carries his cross of passion

Through the wreckage and the rumble

In those proud shoes, coming on up the alley

In those proud shoes, walks all over the sky

Then he tipped his hat just like Don Quixote

And said don’t let the rapture

Don’t let the rapture pass you by

Don’t let it pass you by