The ragamuffin gunner is returnin' home like a hungry runaway
He walks through town all alone
"He must be from the fort," he hears the high school girls say
This countryside's burnin' with wolfmen fairies dressed in drag for homicide
They hit and run, plead sanctuary, 'neath the holy stone they hide
They're breakin' beams and crosses with a spastic's reelin' perfection
As nuns run bald through Vatican halls pregnant, pleadin' immaculate conception
Everybody's wrecked on Main Street from drinking unholy blood
Sticker smiles sweet as gunner breathes deep, his ankles caked in mud
I said, "Hey, gunner man, that's quicksand, that's quicksand that ain't mud
Have you thrown your senses to the war or did you lose them in the flood?"
That pure American brother, dull-eyed and empty-faced
He races Sundays in Jersey in a Chevy stock super eight
He rides her low on the hip, on the side he's got Bound For Glory in red, white and blue flash paint
He leans on the hood telling racin' stories, the kids call him Jimmy The Saint
Well that blaze and noise boy, he's gunnin' that bitch loaded to blastin' point
He rides headfirst into a hurricane, then disappears into a point
Till there's nothin' left but blood where the body fell
That is, nothin' left that you could sell
Just junk all across the horizon, a real highwayman's farewell
They said, "Hey kid, you think that's oil? Man, that ain't oil, that's blood"
I wonder what he was thinking when he hit that storm
Or was he just lost in the flood?
Eighth Avenue sailors in satin shirts whisper in the air
Some storefront incarnation of Maria, she's puttin' on me the stare
And Bronx's best apostle stands with his hand on his own hardware
Everything stops, you hear five quick shots, the cops come up for air
Now the whiz-bang gang from uptown, they're shootin' up the street
That cat from the Bronx starts lettin' loose, but gets blown right off his feet
Some kid comes blastin' round the corner, but a cop puts him right away
He lays on the street holding his leg screaming something in Spanish
Still breathing when I walked away
And somebody said, "Hey man, did you see that? His body hit the street with such a beautiful thud"
I wonder what that kid was saying, or was he just lost in the flood?
Hey man, did you see that? Those poor cats were sure fucked up
I wonder what they were gettin' into, were they just lost in the flood?
compositores: BRUCE SPRINGSTEEN
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