David Bowie - It’s Hard to Be a Saint in the City lyrics
[David Bowie - It’s Hard to Be a Saint in the City 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 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 it's heartbeat
The sisters fell back and said
"Don't that man look pretty"
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
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 couldn't beat
And 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
The eyes fixed straight ahead
They ride the line of balancing
Hold on by just a thread
Well, it's 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 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
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 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 it's heartbeat
The sisters fell back and said
"Don't that man look pretty"
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
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 couldn't beat
And 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
The eyes fixed straight ahead
They ride the line of balancing
Hold on by just a thread
Well, it's 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 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