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 and dance just like a Casanova With my blackjack 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 could hear its heartbeat The sisters fell back and said, Dont that man look pretty The cripple on the corner cried out, Penny, nickels for your pity Them gasoline boys downtown, they sure talk gritty Its so hard to be a saint in the city I was a king of the alley, mama, I could talk some trash I was a prince of the paupers, crowned downtown at the Beggars Bash I was a pimps 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, mama Devil appeared to me like Jesus through the steam in the street And showed me a hand that even the cops couldnt beat And I felt his hot breath on my neck as I dove into the heat Its so hard to be a saint when youre 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, the eyes fixed straight ahead They ride the line of balancing, hold on by just a thread Well, its 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 back down in your seat And your heart starts beating faster as you struggle to your feet Then youre out of that hole, back on the street And them southside sisters, they sure look pretty And the cripple on the corner cries out, Nickels for your pity And them downtown boys, they sure talk gritty Its so hard to be a saint in the city
heat, downtown, saint, gritty, cripple