Somewhere (Dirty Blvd.) (Extended Version) - 郎朗 (Lang Lang)/Lisa Fischer/Robbie Robertson Written by：Leonard Bernstein/Lou Reed/Stephen Sondheim/Billy Childs/Larry Klein/JoAnn Kane Music Service/Andy Clausen Music
Pedro lives out of the Wilshire Hotel
He looks out a window without glass
The walls are made of cardboard newspapers on his feet
His father beats him cause he's too tired to beg
He's got 9 brothers and sisters
They're brought up on their knees
It's hard to run when a coat hanger beats you on the thighs
Pedro dreams of being older and killing the old man
But that's a slim chance he's going to the boulevard
He's going to end up on the dirty boulevard
He's going out to the dirty boulevard
He's going down to the dirty boulevard
There's a place for us
Somewhere a place for us
Peace and quiet and open air
Wait for us Somewhere
There's a time for us
Someday there'll time for us
Time together and time to spare
Time to learn time to care
Someday somewhere somewhere
This room cost 2000 dollars a month
You can believe it man it's true
Somewhere a landlord's laughing till he wets his pants
No one here dreams of being a doctor or a lawyer or anything
They dream of dealing on the dirty boulevard
Give me your hungry your tired your poor I'll piss on 'em That's what the Statue of Bigotry says
Your poor huddled masses let's club 'em to death And get it over with and just dump 'em on the boulevard
Get 'em out on the dirty boulevard
Going out to the dirty boulevard
They're going down on the dirty boulevard
Going out
There's a place for us
Somewhere a place for us
Hold my hand and we're half way there
Hold my hand and I'll take you there
Someday somewhere
We'll find a new way of living
Will find there's a way of forgiving
Somewhere
Outside it's a bright night
There's an opera at Lincoln Center Movie stars arrive by limousine
The klieg lights shoot up over the skyline of Manhattan
But the lights are out on the Mean Streets
A small kid stands by the Lincoln Tunnel He's selling plastic roses for a buck The traffic's backed up to 39th street The TV whores are calling the cops out for a suck
And back at the Wilshire Pedro sits there dreaming
He's found a book on magic in a garbage can
He looks at the pictures and stares at the cracked ceiling
At the count of 3 he says I hope I can disappear And fly fly away from this dirty boulevard
A small kid stands by the Lincoln Tunnel He's selling plastic roses for a buck The traffic's backed up to 39th street The TV whores are calling the cops out for a suck
