David Bowie

It's Hard to Be a Saint in the City - Letra

David Bowie

Añadir a Favoritas


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 cripple on the corner cried out, "Penny, nickels for your pity"
Them gasoline boys downtown, they sure talk gritty
It's 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 pimp's main prophet, I kept everything cool
Just a backstreet gambler with the luck to lose
Devil appeared to me like Jesus through the steam in the street
And showed me a hand that even the cops couldn't beat

And the sages of the subway sit just like the living dead
They ride the line of balancing, hold on by just a thread
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 you're 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
It's so hard to be a saint in the city

Apoyar a David Bowie

  • David Bowie no está entre los 500 artistas más apoyados y visitados de esta semana, su mejor puesto ha sido el 10º en enero de 2016.

    ¿Apoyar a David Bowie?

    Ranking SemanalMedallero