Downtown hipsters drinking up the drug line Down in the kitchen working in the coal mine Got a special sin, mister, you can't quite confess Messy little problem, maybe baby need a new dress Razorback diamond you shine too hard Need a hammer help you handle a little trouble in your backyard
Bring it on down to Harry's Place
When Harry speaks it's Harry's streets in Harry's house it's Harry's roads You don't wanna be around, brother, when Harry scolds It's Harry's car, Harry's wife, Harry's dogs run Harry's town Your blood and money spit shines Harry's crown You don't fuck with Harry's money you don't fuck Harry's girls These are the rules, this is the world
Bring it on down to Harry's Place
You need a little shot of something, dear to improve your health A taste of that one little weakness you allow yourself You're looking for the key of that box you locked yourself in Just stood up to the line and be one of Harry's friends
Shadow on the corner, no light, no sign Nobody on the street 'cept the deaf, dumb, and blind Now Connor's on the couch, Father McGowan's at the bar Chief Horden's at the door checking who the fuck you are
C saw Bobby dressed in drag and Mr. Nice Carry me into a back room and dim the lights My arms strapped to the table a thousand angels spinning up the room A voice whispers in my head, "We do what we must do" When we bring it on down to Harry's Place Bring it on down to Harry's Place
Nobody knows his number, nobody knows his name If he didn't exist, it'd all go on just the same
Bring it on down to Harry's Place
Compositor: Bruce Springsteen (PRS)Editores: Eldridge Publishing Co., Sony/ATV Pop Music PublishingAdministração: Sony Music Publishing LLC, Sony/ATV Pop Music PublishingECAD verificado obra #34173615 em 02/Abr/2024 com dados da UBEM