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 sun
Then 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 gasoline boys, downtown, sure talk gritty
It's so hard to be a saint in the city

I was the King of the Alley
And, oh, 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 everything cool
Just a backstreet gambler
With the luck to lose

And when the heat came down
And 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 out on the street

And the sages of the subway sit
Just like the living dead
As the tracks clack out the rhythm
Their eyes fixed straight ahead

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 they sure talk gritty
It's so hard to be a saint in the city
So hard
Oh, now...
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