It's Hard To Be A Saint In The City - Live

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
Then dance like a Casanova
With my blackjack and jacket and hair slicked sweet
Silver star studs on my duds like a Harley in heat
When I strut down the street I could feel its heartbeat
The sisters fell back, said "Don't that man look pretty"
The cripple on the corner cried out "Nickels for your pity"
Them downtown boys sure talk gritty
When it's hard to be a saint, in the city

Well I was the king of the alley, well I could talk some trash
The prince of the paupers crowned downtown at the beggar's bash
The pimp's main prophet but I kept everything cool
A backstreet gambler with the luck to lose
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 ain't hard to be a saint, when you're just a boy

And the sages of 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, hold on by just a thread
It's too hot in these tunnels, you can get hit up by the heat
You get up to get out at your next stop, they push you back down in your seat
Your heart starts beatin' faster as you struggle to your feet
You're outa that hole and back up on the street

South Side sisters sure look pretty
Cripple on the corner cried out "Nickels for your pity"
Them downtown boys sure talk gritty
Well it's hard to be a saint, in the city

So hard, saint

So hard