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. Chorus:. 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. Chorus. In the neon wilderness and the ashphalt jungle. He carries his cross of passion. Through the wreckage and the rumble. Chorus:. 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.