Bruce Springsteen It's Hard to be a Saint in the
City Lyrics:
I had skin like leather and the diamond-hard look
of a cobra I was born blue and weathered but I
burst just like a supernova I could walk like
Brando right into the sunThen dance just like a
Casanova With my blackjack and jacket and hair
slicked sweet Silver star studs on my duds like a
Harley in heat When I strut down the street I
could feel its heartbeat The sisters fell back and
said "Don't that man look pretty" The cripple on
the corner cried out "Nickels for your pity" Them
downtown boys sure talk grittyIt's so hard to be a
saint in the city I was the king if the alley I
could talk some trash I was the prince of the
paupers crowned downtown at the beggar's bash I
was the pimp's main prophet I kept everythning
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cool A backstreet gambler with the luck to lose
And when the heat came down it was left on the
ground The devil appeared like Jesus through the
steam in the street Showin' me a hand I knew even
the cops couldn't beat I felt his hot breath on my
neck as I dove into the heat It's so hard to be a
saint when you're just a boy And the sages of the
subway sit just like the living dead As the tracks
clack out the rhythm their eyes fixed
straightahead They ride the line of balance and
hold on by just a thread But it's too hot in these
tunnels you can get hit up by the heat You get up
to get out at your next stop but they push you
back down in your seat Your heart starts beatin'
faster as you struggle to your feet Then you're
outa that hole and back up on the street And them
South Side sisters sure look pretty The cripple on
the corner cries out "Nickels for your pity" And
them downtown boys sure talk grittyIt's so hard to
be a saint in the city
Lyrics: It's Hard to be a Saint in the City, Bruce
Springsteen [end]