It's Hard to Be a Saint in the City

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

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 super nova

I could walk like Brando right into the sun

And dance just like a Casanova

With my black jack 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 can 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 down town they sure talk gritty

It's so hard to be a saint in the city

I was the king of the alley mama

I could talk some trash

I was the Prince of the Paupers

Crowned down town at the Beggars Bash

I was a pimps main prophet I kept everything cool

Just a back street gambler with the luck to lo ose

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 an

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

And It's so hard to be a saint

When you're just a poor bo-oy 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 right 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 south side sisters

They sure look pretty

And the cripple on the corner

Cries out Nickels for your pity

And them down town boys

They sure talk gritty

It's so hard to be a saint in the c c city