Can't limit it to a line ... the whole verse gets me everytime
Outside the street's on fire in a real death waltzBetween what's flesh and what's fantasyAnd the poets down here don't write nothing at allThey just stand back and let it all beAnd in the quick of the night, they reach for their momentAnd try to make an honest standBut they wind up wounded, not even deadTonight in Jungleland
Outside the street's on fire in a real death waltzBetween flesh and what's fantasy and the poets down hereDon't write nothing at all, they just stand back and let it all beAnd in the quick of the night they reach for their momentAnd try to make an honest stand but they wind up wounded, not even deadTonight in Jungleland
Bruce Springsteen, Jungleland