| ![Bruce Springsteen - 08. Jungleland.flac Lyrics - Zortam Music Bruce Springsteen - 08. Jungleland.flac Lyrics - Zortam Music]()  | 
| Song: | 08. Jungleland.flac | 
| Album: | Born To Run | Genres: | Rock | 
| Year: | 1975 | Length: | 577 sec | 
Lyricist: Bruce Springsteen
Lyrics:
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 Lawmen 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 vanish 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 one 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 what's 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
	
	
	
	
		
		
	
	
	
			
	   	 
     
	
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