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 just 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 hear 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 gasoline boys downtown 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 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
    And the sages of the subway sit just like the living dead
  As the tracks clack out the rhythm their eyes fixed straight ahead
  They ride the line of balance and hold on by just a thread
  But 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 but they push you back down in your seat
  Your heart starts beatin' faster as you struggle to your feet
  Then you're outa that hole and back up on the street
    And them South Side sisters sure look pretty
  The cripple on the corner cries out "Nickels for your pity"
  And them downtown boys sure talk gritty
  It's so hard to be a saint in the city