Идет поиск видеоклипа в базе...

(при отсутствии ролика в базе, ничего не произойдет)

Получи текст песни

Bruce Springsteen - Jungleland

на свой мобильный!
Отправь SMS с текстом 55788-101-382 на номер 5537.

Предложение действительно для Российских операторов.

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 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 vanish unseen
Kids flash guitars just like switch-blades
Hustling for the record machine
The hungry and the hunted
Explode into rocknroll 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 theyre 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 whats 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

http://muzsupport.com/music/eng/101/1/382.html