Anne-Marie - It's Hard to Be a Saint in the City: chords

       F#m                       D            E
I had skin like leather and the diamond hard look
      A    D A D
of a cobra
A      F#m                           D
I was born blue and weathered but I burst
             E    F#m
just like a super nova
F#m      D
I could walk like Brando right into the sun
F#m                     D
Dance just like a Casa Nova

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 gasoline boys downtown sure talk gritty

F#m      D            E            A7sus4
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

F#m      D                   E
It's so hard to be a saint when you're just
  A7sus4              A7
a boy out on the street

A7      A7sus4                        A7
Well my sages on the subway sit just like
the living dead
     D7sus4                                     D7
As the track clack out their rhythm their eyes fixed
straight ahead
      G7
They ride the line of balance hold on
by just a thread
         C7
But it's too hot in these tunnels,
you get hit up by the heat
        Dm                                   Dm/C
You get up to go out at your next stop, they push
you back down in your seat
     A#
Your heart starts beatin fast as you struggle
to your feet
       Esus4                 E
You're out of that hole back up on the street
          D          E                 F#m
And them south side sisters sure look pretty
      D             E                F#m
The cripple on the corner cries out "nickles
for your pity"
      D         E    F#m
Them down town boys sure talk gritty
         D            E    Asus4       A
It's so hard to be a saint in the city