It's Hard To Be A Saint In The City 歌词
| 歌曲 | It's Hard To Be A Saint In The City |
| 歌手 | Bruce Springsteen |
| 专辑 | Tracks |
| 下载 | Image LRC TXT |
| Lyrics：Bruce Springsteen Music：Bruce Springsteen | |
| 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 hear 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, mama, 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 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 sure talk gritty | |
| It's so hard to be a saint in the city |
| Lyrics: Bruce Springsteen Music: Bruce Springsteen | |
| I had skin like leather and the diamondhard 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 hear 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, mama, 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 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 sure talk gritty | |
| It' s so hard to be a saint in the city |
| Lyrics: Bruce Springsteen Music: Bruce Springsteen | |
| I had skin like leather and the diamondhard 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 hear 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, mama, 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 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 sure talk gritty | |
| It' s so hard to be a saint in the city |
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