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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 there live 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 flash unseen
kids flash guitars just like switchblades
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 a knife, they reach for their moment
and try to make an honest stand
but they wind up wounded, not even dead
tonight in jungleland
El Rangers tuvo un regreso a casa
en Harlem, ayer por la noche
y la rata mágica condujo su máquina de elegante
sobre la línea de estado de New Jersey
niña descalza sentada en el capó de un Dodge
bebiendo cerveza caliente en la suave lluvia de verano
la rata se detiene en la ciudad, se sube los pantalones
juntos tomar una puñalada en el romance
y el carril de desaparecer por el flamenco
Bueno, los representantes de la ley el máximo recorrido de abajo del flamenco
persiguiendo a la rata y la niña descalza
y vueltas de los niños que viven como sombras
Siempre tranquilo, tomarse de las manos
de las iglesias a las cárceles
Esta noche todo es silencio en el mundo
mientras tomamos nuestro stand
en Jungleland
La banda se reunió la medianoche
y tomó una cita para la noche
que van a cumplir "que el gigante Exxon neath signo
que trae esta luz hermosa ciudad
hombre, no es una ópera en la autopista
no hay un ballet que se libra en el callejón
hasta que los policías locales, la cereza-tops, rasgaduras esta noche santa
la calle está vivo ya que las deudas se pagan secretos
los contactos realizados, que no se ve parpadear
los niños de flash guitarras como navajas
presionante de la máquina de registro
el hambre y la caza
Ayúdanos a mejorar, si encuentras errores ¡Envíanos tu corrección!
Bruce Springsteen
Jungleland
Jungleland
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 there live 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 flash unseen
kids flash guitars just like switchblades
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 a knife, they reach for their moment
and try to make an honest stand
but they wind up wounded, not even dead
tonight in jungleland
Bruce Springsteen
Jungleland
Jungleland
El Rangers tuvo un regreso a casa
en Harlem, ayer por la noche
y la rata mágica condujo su máquina de elegante
sobre la línea de estado de New Jersey
niña descalza sentada en el capó de un Dodge
bebiendo cerveza caliente en la suave lluvia de verano
la rata se detiene en la ciudad, se sube los pantalones
juntos tomar una puñalada en el romance
y el carril de desaparecer por el flamenco
Bueno, los representantes de la ley el máximo recorrido de abajo del flamenco
persiguiendo a la rata y la niña descalza
y vueltas de los niños que viven como sombras
Siempre tranquilo, tomarse de las manos
de las iglesias a las cárceles
Esta noche todo es silencio en el mundo
mientras tomamos nuestro stand
en Jungleland
La banda se reunió la medianoche
y tomó una cita para la noche
que van a cumplir "que el gigante Exxon neath signo
que trae esta luz hermosa ciudad
hombre, no es una ópera en la autopista
no hay un ballet que se libra en el callejón
hasta que los policías locales, la cereza-tops, rasgaduras esta noche santa
la calle está vivo ya que las deudas se pagan secretos
los contactos realizados, que no se ve parpadear
los niños de flash guitarras como navajas
presionante de la máquina de registro
el hambre y la caza
Ayúdanos a mejorar, si encuentras errores ¡Envíanos tu corrección!
