It’s Hard to Be a Saint in the City [Hammersmith Odeon, London ’75] Bruce Springsteen

[Verse 1]
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

[Chorus 1]
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 and said, "Don't that man look pretty"
The cripple on the corner cried out, "Nickels for your pity"
Them downtown boys sure talk gritty
It's so hard to be a saint in the city

[Verse 3]
I was the king of the alley, I could talk some trash
I was prince of the paupers crowned downtown at the beggar's bash
I was the pimp's main prophet, I kept everything cool
A backstreet gambler with the luck to lose

[Chorus 2]
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