Bruce Springsteen

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D       C                  D
The ragamuffin gunner is returnin' home like a
 G             Bm7
hungry runaway
    C                       D
He walks through town all alone
                     G
He must be from the fort he hears
                Bm
the high school girls say
     D                         D/C
His countryside's burnin' with wolfman
                    Em           Bm
fairies dressed in drag for homicide
     C                  D
The hit and run, plead sanctuary,
          G               Bm
`neath a holy stone they hide
          C                  D
They're breakin' beams and crosses
         G                   Bm
with a spastic's reelin' perfection
 C                     D
Nuns run bald through Vatican halls pregnant,
  G
pleadin' immaculate
    Bm
conception
     D                     D/C
And everybody's wrecked on Main Street
      Em              Bm
from drinking unholy blood
  C                      D
Sticker smiles sweet as gunner
                   C       Bm      Em
breathes deep, his ankles caked in mud

Chorus:
             C          D          Em
And I said "Hey gunner man that's quicksand,
         C         D
that's quicksand that ain't
Em
mud
            C         D     Em
Have you thrown your senses to the war
            C        D        Em Am D
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 her 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 racin' 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 headfirst 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

Chorus:
And I said, "Hey kid, d'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
Whoa, 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

Chorus:
And somebody said, "Hey man, did you see that?
His body hit the street with such a beautiful thud"
I wonder what the dude was sayin'
Or was he just lost in the flood?
Well, 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?