A musician confronts the gap between Broadway's glittering promise and the hunger on its streets. He's been told to go home, catch a Greyhound, that he won't last. He stays anyway, guitar in hand, determined to become a star.
1, 2, 3, 4. They say the neon lights ignite on Broadway. They say there's always magic in the air. But when you're walking down the street and you ain't had enough to eat, the glitter rubs right off from nowhere. They say the men all treat you fine on Broadway. But looking at them just gives me the blues. 'Cause how they gonna make some time when all they got is one thin dime? And one thin dime won't even shine your shoes. They say that I won't last too long on Broadway. I'll catch a Greyhound bus for home, they say. But they're dead wrong, I know they are. 'Cause he can play this here guitar. And I won't quit till I'm a star on Broadway. They say that I won't last too long. On Broadway. I'll catch a Greyhound bus for home, they all say. But that'll go none of the way, 'cause I can play this single fella. And I won't quit till I'm a star. On Broadway. Broadway!
