It's hard to be a Saint in the City

A poem about a musician written for Writer's Cramp

It’s hard to be a saint in the City
When you’re living the rock and roll life
Fame, fortune, and fans have all blessed you,
No boredom, no worries or strife

It’s hard to be good in the City
‘Midst the parties, the drugs, and the bars
When you think that you’ll be young forever,
Rubbing shoulders with A-lister stars

It’s hard to make friends in the City
A producer who won’t sell your soul.
All the users, the crooks, and the dealers,
All the groupies with only one goal

It’s hard to fall down in the City
After only five minutes of fame.
Indiscretions, your face in the papers
And you find that you’re losing the game.

It’s hard to keep clean in the City
Can you ever outrun your past?
Stay sober, stay focused, stay hopeful,
But somehow it just doesn’t last

It’s hard to move on from the City;
The memories locked in your heart
With a guitar and ticket to safety,
Now it’s time that you made a fresh start

24 lines