In my opinion one of the best songs and best concerts of all time, Jungleland, live at Hammersmith Odeon, London, 1975. It is quite incredible that 33 years after this was shot, Bruce Springsteen is still around releasing better albums than most artists that emerged after him.
Seeing him live was one of the highlights of my life! So any Bruce fans out there?
[YOUTUBE]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IbpPTnVskaA[/YOUTUBE]
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 lawman 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 gangs assembled and picked a rendezvous for the night
Theyll meet `neath that giant exxon sign that brings this fair city light
Man theres an opera out on the turnpike
Theres a ballet being fought out in the alley
Until the local cops,
cherry tops,
rips this holy night
The streets alive as secret debts are paid
Contacts made, they vanished unseen
Kids flash guitars just like switch-blades hustling for the record machine
The hungry and the hunted explode into rock&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 d.j. plays
Lonely-hearted lovers
struggle in dark corners
Desperate as the night moves on,
In just a 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 rats 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 streets on fire in a real death waltz
Between flesh and whats fantasy
and the poets down here
Dont 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
