Soap Box Preacher

(Robbie Robertson)

Soap box preacher standing on the corner And all the people they would gather around 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 searching for this minstrel man Played me a song to ease the pain
With a Salvation Army band

When you’re out there in the dark
All alone
When you’re sleeping in the park
At the end of the road
In the neon wilderness and the asphalt 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
Don’t let it pass you by