Track Title:               It's Hard To Be A Saint In The City
Album Title:               Tracks, Disc 1
Prime Artist:              Bruce Springsteen

Written by:                Bruce Springsteen

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 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