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Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS
Bruce Springsteen
Bruce Springsteen
Vocals
Vincent "Loper" Lopez
Vincent "Loper" Lopez
Drums
David Sancious
David Sancious
Piano
Garry Tallent
Garry Tallent
Bass Guitar
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Bruce Springsteen
Bruce Springsteen
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Mike Appel
Mike Appel
Producer
Jim Cretecos
Jim Cretecos
Producer
Louis Lahav
Louis Lahav
Engineer
Bob Ludwig
Bob Ludwig
Mastering Engineer
Jack Ashkinazy
Jack Ashkinazy
Mixing Engineer
Toby Scott
Toby Scott
Mastering Engineer

Lyrics

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 His countryside's burnin' with wolfman fairies Dressed in drag for homicide They hit and run, plead sanctuary 'Neath a holy stone they hide They're breakin' beams and crosses With a spastic's reelin' perfection Nuns run bald through Vatican halls pregnant Pleadin' immaculate conception And everybody's wrecked on Main Street From drinking unholy blood Sticker smiles sweet as gunner breathes deep His ankles caked in mud And 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 Races Sundays in Jersey In a Chevy stock super eight He rides 'er 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 racing 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 head first into a hurricane And disappears into a point And there's nothin' left but some blood where the body fell That is nothin' left that you could sell Just junk all across the horizon A real highwayman's farewell And I 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 And now the whiz-bang gang from uptown They're shootin' up the street Oh, that cat from the Bronx starts lettin' loose But he gets blown right off his feet Oh, and 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 someone said, "Hey man, did you see that? His body hit the street with such a beautiful thud" I wonder what that dude was sayin' Or was he just lost in the flood? "Hey man, did you see that? Lord, those poor cats are sure messed up" I wonder what they were gettin' into Or were they all just lost in the flood? Were they lost, oh, tell me, tell me, man Were they lost?
Writer(s): Bruce Springsteen Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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