It's Hard to Be a Saint In the City

Well 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

Well I walk like Brando right into the sun
And dance just like a Casanova
Now with my blackjack and jacket
And hair slicked sweet
Silver star studs on my duds
Like a Harley in heat
When I walk down the street
I could hear its heart beat
An old woman fell back and said
Don't that man look pretty

The cripple on the corner cried out, "Nickels for your pity"
And then gasoline boys downtown that sure talk gritty
It's so hard to be a saint in the city

Well I was the king of the alley
I could talk a 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

When the sages and the subway
Sit just like the living dead
The tracks clack out the rhythm
Their eyes fixed straight ahead
They ride the line of balance
And hold on by just a thread
It's too hot in these tunnels
You can get hit up by the heat

I get up to get out at your next stop
But they push you back in your seat
My heart starts beatin' faster as I struggle to my feet
Then I get out of that hole and I went back up on the street

And then South Side sisters sure look pretty
And the cripple on the corner knows I don't pay for no critic
And then gasoline boys, yeah they sure talk gritty
It's so hard to be a saint in the city