[00:00.000] 作词 : Bruce Springsteen
[00:01.000] 作曲 : Bruce Springsteen
[00:56.470]The ragamuffin gunner is returnin' home, like a hungry runaway
[01:04.370]He walks through town all alone
[01:07.170]"He must be from the fort", he hears the high school girls say
[01:11.600]This countryside's burnin' with wolf man fairies, dressed in drag for homicide
[01:20.140]The hit-and-run, plead sanctuary 'neath the holy stone they hide
[01:27.840]Breakin' beams, breakin' crosses, making midnight connections
[01:35.050]As sisters run bald in church halls, pleadin' immaculate conception
[01:42.900]And everybody's wrecked on Main Street from drinking unholy b***d
[01:51.850]Sticker smiles sweet, and the gunner breathes deep, his ankles caked in mud
[02:00.120]Someone says, "Hey, gunner, man, that's quicksand, that's quicksand, that ain't mud
[02:08.340]Have you thrown your senses to the war, or did you lose them in the flood?
[02:17.950]That pure American brother, dull-eyed and empty-faced
[02:25.900]He races Sundays in Jersey, in a Chevy stock super eight
[02:32.890]He rides 'er low on the hip, on the side, he's got "Bound for glory"
[02:37.180]In red, white and blue flash paint
[02:42.010]He leans on the hood, telling racing stories, the kids call him, Jimmy the Saint
[02:50.550]Well, that blaze-and-noise boy, he's gunnin' that b***h, loaded to blastin' point
[02:57.590]He rides head first into a hurricane, and disappears into a point
[03:04.380]'Til there's nothin' left, but b***d where the body fell, that is, nothin' left that you could sell
[03:13.170]Just junk all across the horizon, a real highwayman's farewell
[03:21.650]Someone said, "Hey kid, you think that's oil?"
[03:25.470]"Man, that ain't oil, that's b***d"
[03:28.960]I wonder what he was thinking when he hit that storm
[03:32.420]Or was he just lost in the flood?
[03:40.880]Eighth Avenue sailors in satin shirts, whisper in the air
[03:48.090]Some storefront incarnation of Maria, she's puttin' on me a stare
[03:55.730]And Bronx's best apostle stands with his hand on his own hardware
[04:02.800]Everything stops, you hear five quick shots, the cops come up for air
[04:10.870]Now the whiz-bang gang from uptown, they're shootin' up the street
[04:17.730]And that cat from the Bronx, he starts lettin' loose, but gets blown right off his feet
[04:24.550]And some kid comes blastin' around the corner, but a cop puts him right away
[04:31.830]He lays on the street holding his leg, screaming something in Spanish
[04:35.890]Still breathing, when I walked away
[04:39.310]And someone said, "Hey man, did you see that?
[04:43.010]His body hit the street with such a beautiful thud, ugh!
[04:47.810]Wonder what that dude was sayin'
[04:50.850]Was he just lost in the flood?"
[04:54.550]Hey man, did you see that?
[04:57.400]Them poor cats are sure, messed up
[05:01.170]Wonder what they was gettin' into
[05:04.460]Or were they all just lost in the flood?
[05:12.720]Were they lost?
[05:14.410]Whoa-oh, oh-oh-oh
[05:20.250]Hey
[05:26.200]Oh-oh-oh
[05:32.570]Ah, oh
[05:38.740]Whoa-oh, oh
[05:45.530]Whoa
[05:49.840]Whoa, uh, whoa, uh

作词 : Bruce Springsteen
作曲 : Bruce Springsteen
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 wolf man fairies, dressed in drag for homicide
The hit-and-run, plead sanctuary 'neath the holy stone they hide
Breakin' beams, breakin' crosses, making midnight connections
As sisters run bald in church halls, pleadin' immaculate conception
And everybody's wrecked on Main Street from drinking unholy b***d
Sticker smiles sweet, and the gunner breathes deep, his ankles caked in mud
Someone says, "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 '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 b***h, loaded to blastin' point
He rides head first into a hurricane, and disappears into a point
'Til there's nothin' left, but b***d where the body fell, that is, nothin' left that you could sell
Just junk all across the horizon, a real highwayman's farewell
Someone said, "Hey kid, you think that's oil?"
"Man, that ain't oil, that's b***d"
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 a 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
And that cat from the Bronx, he starts lettin' loose, but gets blown right off his feet
And some kid comes blastin' around 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, ugh!
Wonder what that dude was sayin'
Was he just lost in the flood?"
Hey man, did you see that?
Them poor cats are sure, messed up
Wonder what they was gettin' into
Or were they all just lost in the flood?
Were they lost?
Whoa-oh, oh-oh-oh
Hey
Oh-oh-oh
Ah, oh
Whoa-oh, oh
Whoa
Whoa, uh, whoa, uh