Wednesday, December 11, 2002
Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band
Born To Run
Columbia Records, 1975
Jungleland
(Springsteen)
The rangers had a homecoming in Harlem late last night
And the Magic Rat drove his sleek machine over the Jersey state line
Barefoot girl sitting on the hood of a Dodge
Drinking warm beer in the soft summer rain
The Rat pulls into town rolls up his pants
Together they take a stab at romance
and disappear down Flamingo Lane
Well the Maximum Lawman run down Flamingo chasing the Rat
and the barefoot girl
And the kids round here look just like shadows
always quiet, holding hands
From the churches to the jails tonight all is silence in the world
As we take our stand
down in Jungleland
The midnight gang's assembled and picked a rendezvous for the night
They'll meet `neath that giant Exxon sign that brings this fair city light
Man there's an opera out on the Turnpike
There's a ballet being fought out in the alley
Until the local cops, Cherry Tops, rips this holy night
The street's alive as secret debts are paid
Contacts made, they vanished unseen
Kids flash guitars just like switch-blades hustling for the record machine
The hungry and the hunted explode into rock'n'roll bands
That face off against each other out in the street
down in Jungleland
In the parking lot the visionaries dress in the latest rage
Inside the backstreet girls are dancing to the records that the dj plays
Lonely-hearted lovers struggle in dark corners
Desperate as the night moves on,
just a look
and a whisper,
and they're gone
Beneath the city two hearts beat
Soul engines running through a night so tender in a bedroom locked
In whispers of soft refusal and then surrender in the tunnels uptown
The Rat's own dream guns him down as shots echo
down them hallways in the night
No one watches when the ambulance pulls away
Or as the girl shuts out the bedroom light
Outside the street's on fire in a real death waltz
Between flesh and what's fantasy
and the poets down here don't write nothing at all,
they just stand back and let it all be
And in the quick of the night they reach for their moment
And try to make an honest stand
but they wind up wounded,
not even dead
Tonight
in
Jungleland
ken layne
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