Born in Queens, the shortstop king
I traded diamonds for the Fillmore East
Saint Peter came to meet me halfway
Dee Dee says it's fair play
They don't know the secrets I have
They don't know how sick I am
Cocaine and LSD
This life will be the death of me
Born to die in New York City
Alright
Don't think I'll make it home tonight
That horse won't let me ride
Only one thing on this one track mind
I can't kick it, I tried
Room 37, it's the end of me
One last run will set me free
I'm sorry I didn't have more to say
I never wanted to be old anyway
Born to die in New York City
Alright
