Luyện nghe bài hát It's Hard to Be a Saint in The City

I had like leather and the diamond-hard look of a cobra
I was blue and weathered but I burst just like a super-nova
I could walk like brando into the sun, an' dance just like a casanova
With my black-jack and jacket and my slicked sweet
Silver studs on my duds like a harley in heat
When I strut down the street I can hear its'
The sisters back and said "don't that man look pretty"
The cripple on the corner cried out "penny, nickels for pity"
Them gasoline boys down-town, they sure talk
It's so hard to be a in the city

I was the of the alley, mama, I could talk some trash
I was the prince of the paupers, crowned down-town at the beggars'
I was a main prophet, I kept everything cool
a back-street gambler with the luck to lo..ose
And the heat came down it was left on the ground, mama
appeared to me like jesus through the steam in the street, an'
Showed me a that even the cops couldn't beat
And I felt his hot 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 sit just like the living dead
As the tracks clack out the rhythm, the eyes straight ahead
ride the line of balancin', hold on by just a thread
Well, it's too hot in tunnels, you can get hit up by the heat
When you get up to get out at your next stop, but they push you down in your seat
And your heart starts beatin' as you struggle to your feet
you're out of that hole!, back on the street
And them sisters, they sure look pretty
And the on the corner cries out "nickels for your pity"
And them down-town boys, they sure gritty
so hard to be a saint in the c..c..city