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 and dance just like a Casanova With my blackjack 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 could hear its 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 downtown, they sure talk gritty It's so hard to be a saint in the city
レザーのような肌とコブラのように鋭い目つきで、俺はまるで超新星のように現れた。ブランドのように太陽の中を歩き、カサノバのように踊る。銀のスタッズをちりばめた服を着て、ハーレーのように街を闊歩すれば、女たちは振り返り、足の不自由な男は小銭を乞う。ガソリンスタンドの若者たちは下品な言葉を吐き捨てる。都会で聖人君子のように振る舞うのは難しい。
I was a king of the alley, mama, I could talk some trash I was a prince of the paupers, crowned downtown at the Beggars' Bash I was a 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, mama Devil appeared to me like Jesus through the steam in the street And 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 It's so hard to be a saint when you're just a boy out on the street
路地裏の王様だった俺は、口喧嘩も得意だった。貧乏人の王子様として、乞食たちの宴で王冠を戴いた。ポン引きの預言者として、すべてをクールに保っていた。裏通りのギャンブラー、負けるための運を持っていた。暑さが厳しくなると、まるで蒸気の中のイエス様のように悪魔が現れ、警官にも負けない手札を見せた。熱気を帯びた吐息を首筋に感じながら、俺は熱気の中に飛び込んだ。ただの少年が街で聖人君子のように振る舞うのは難しい。
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 back 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 southside sisters, they sure look pretty And the cripple on the corner cries out, "Nickels for your pity" And them downtown boys, they sure talk gritty It's so hard to be a saint in the city
地下鉄の賢者たちは生ける屍のように座り、線路の音がリズムを刻み、目は前を見据えている。彼らは均衡の線を辿り、かろうじて糸にしがみついている。トンネルの中は暑すぎて、熱気にやられてしまう。次の駅で降りようと立ち上がっても、彼らは座るように押し戻す。心臓が早鐘のように鼓動し、足を引きずりながら立ち上がる。穴から出て、再び街へ。南部の女たちは美しく、街角の足が悪い男は小銭を乞い、ダウンタウンの若者たちは下品な言葉を吐き捨てる。都会で聖人君子のように振る舞うのは難しい。
