Spanish Harlem

It is the special one
It never sees the sun
It only comes up
When the moon is on the run
And all the stars are gleaming
It's growing in the street
Right up through the concrete
But soft, sweet and dreamy
With eyes as black as coal
That look down in his soul
And start a fire there and then he looses control
I'm gonna beg his pardon, yeah
He's going to pick that rose
And watch her as she grows
In his garden