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Credits
PERFORMING ARTISTS
Bruce Springsteen
Vocals
Charles Calello
String Conductor
Garry Tallent
Bass Guitar
Roy Bittan
Piano
Tzurya Lahav
Violin
Clarence Clemons
Tenor Saxophone
Max Weinberg
Drums
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Bruce Springsteen
Songwriter
Charles Calello
String Arranger
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Bruce Springsteen
Producer
Jon Landau
Producer
Mike Appel
Producer
Jimmy Iovine
Mixing Engineer
Thom Panunzio
Assistant Engineer
Corky Stasiak
Assistant Engineer
Ricke Delena
Assistant Engineer
Angie Arcuri
Assistant Engineer
Andy Abrams
Assistant Engineer
Greg Calbi
Mastering Engineer
Bob Ludwig
Mastering Engineer
David Thoener
Assistant Engineer
Lyrics
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 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 vanish 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 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
Writer(s): Bruce Springsteen
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