David Bowie 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 super-nova I could walk like
Brando right into the sun, an' dance just like a
Casanova With my black-jack and jacket and my hair
slicked sweet Silver studs on my duds just like a
Harley in heat When I strut down the street I can
hear its' heartbeat The sisters fell back and said
"Don't that man look pretty" The cripple
on the corner cried out "Penny, nickels for
your pity" Them gasoline boys down-town, they
sure talk gritty It's so hard to be a saint in the
city

I was the king of the alley, mama, I could talk
some trash I was the Prince of the Paupers,
crowned down-town at the Beggars' Bash I was a
pimps main prophet, I kept everything cool Just a
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back-street gambler with the luck to lo..ose And
when the heat came down it was left on the ground,
mama Devil appeared to me like Jesus through the
steam in the street, an' Showed me a hand that
even the cops couldn't beat And I felt his hot
breath on my neck as I dove into the heat, and
It's so hard to be a saint when you're just a poor
bo..oy out on the street

And the sages of the subway sit just like the
living dead As the tracks clack out the rhythm,
the eyes fixed straight ahead They ride the line
of balancin', hold on by just a thread Well, it's
too hot in these tunnels, you can get hit up by
the heat When you get up to get out at your next
stop, but they push you right down in your seat
And your heart starts beatin' faster as you
struggle to your feet Then you're out of that
hole!, back on the street And them south-side
sisters, they sure look pretty And the cripple on
the corner cries out "Nickels for your
pity" And them down-town boys, they sure talk
gritty It's so hard to be a saint in the
c..c..city
Lyrics: It's Hard to be a Saint in the City, David
Bowie [end]