I had skin like leather and the diamond-hard look of a cobra
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I was born blue and weathered but I burst just like a super-nova
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I could walk like Brando right into the sun, an' dance just like a Casanova
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With my black-jack and jacket and my hair slicked sweet
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Silver studs on my duds just like a Harley in heat
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When I strut down the street I can hear its' heartbeat
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The sisters fell back and said "Don't that man look pretty"
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The cripple on the corner cried out "Penny, nickels for your pity"
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Them gasoline boys down-town, they sure talk gritty
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It's so hard to be a saint in the city
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I was the king of the alley, mama, I could talk some trash
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I was the Prince of the Paupers, crowned down-town at the Beggars' Bash
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I was a pimps main prophet, I kept everything cool
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Just a back-street gambler with the luck to lo..ose
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And when the heat came down it was left on the ground, mama
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Devil appeared to me like Jesus through the steam in the street, an'
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Showed me a hand that even the cops couldn't beat
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And I felt his hot breath on my neck as I dove into the heat, and It's so hard to be a saint when you're just a poor bo..oy out on the street
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And the sages of the subway sit just like the living dead
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As the tracks clack out the rhythm, the eyes fixed straight ahead
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They ride the line of balancin', hold on by just a thread
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Well, it's too hot in these tunnels, you can get hit up by the heat
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When you get up to get out at your next stop, but they push you right down in your seat
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And your heart starts beatin' faster as you struggle to your feet
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Then you're out of that hole!, back on the street
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And them south-side sisters, they sure look pretty
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And the cripple on the corner cries out "Nickels for your pity"
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And them down-town boys, they sure talk gritty
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It's so hard to be a saint in the c..c..city
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It's Hard To Be A Saint In The City
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| David Bowie |
