Luyện nghe bài hát There Was Only One Choice (Edited Version)

There's a kid out on my corner -- hear him strumming a fool
shivering in his dungarees -- but still he's going to
his cheeks are made of peach -- his hopes may be the same
but he's signed up as a soldier out to play the music
There are fake on his jacket -- he's used bleach to fade his jeans
with a brand new stay shirt -- and some creased and wrinkled dreams
his a blemish garden -- but his eyes are virgin clear
his voice is chicken little's -- but he's paul revere
When he catches giggling -- he forces up a sneer
though he'd rather have a milk shake -- he keeps down the beer
just another folkie -- late in down the pike
his guitar -- he left kid brother with his bike
And he's got running in his bones
the hobo kid who's left his home
and his records and the rolling stones
boy is staying acoustic.
there's singing in his heart
he hopes his songs will start
to the cracks that split apart
america gone
And now there's dylan from his mouth
he's himself way down south
to learn a little and blues
from old street men who paid dues
'cause they knew they had to lose
they it
so just got to it
cracked old gibsons and red clay shoes
playing 1-4-5 chords good news
and with skin that calls for blood
they put their and feet in mud
but oh learned the music from way down there
the ones learn it somewhere
Strum guitar -- sing it kid
just write about your feelings -- not the things you did
inexperience -- it once had me
but your youth is no handicap -- it's what makes you
Hey, kid you know you can hear footsteps as you're kicking up the dust
and the rustling in the shadows you secrets you can trust
the capturing of whispers is the way to a song
it's when you get to microphones the can go wrong
You can't see the audience with in your eyes
your feet can't feel the highway from where the jet flies
when you glide in splendor in your padded limousines
only you are crying there behind the silver
now you battle dragons -- but they'll all turn into
when you grab the wheel of -- you get caught up in the cog
First your art turns into craft -- then the yahoos start to
then you'll hear the jackals howl 'cause they to watch the fall
they're the lost ones out feeding on the wounded and the bleeding
they always are the to see the cracks upon the walls
When i started song i was still thirty-three
the age that mozart died and sweet was set free
and shelley too soon finished, charley parker would be
and i fantasized some tragedy'd be soon me
Well just i had my birthday -- i made it thirty-four
mortal, not immortal, not star-crossed anymore
i've got this problem with my aging i no longer can
a tame and toothless tabby can't produce a lion's
And i can't being frightened on these midnight afternoons
when i ask the loaded questions -- why winter come so soon?
and where are all the golden girls that i was for
the daybreak of my dreams serenades no
Yeah the minute man is going soft -- the mirror's on the
only when the truth's up there -- can you fool
i am the jester -- who won't gracefully retire
a clumsy without a net caught staggering on the high wire
Yesterday's a collar that has settled round my
today keeps slipping by me, it no aftertaste
tomorrow is a daydream, the future's never
am i just a fire or a breeze passing through?
Hello my
i once came to tell your story
your passion was my
and past my most potent glory
promise was my prayer
your hypocrisy my
and problems fill my present
are we both going
Step right up young lady -- your two hundred make you old if not senile
and we see the symptoms there in your rigor mortis
with old folks eating dog food and your children eating paint
the pirates own the flag and sell us sermons on restraint
And while blood's the only language that your deaf old ears can
and still you will not with that message coming clear
does it there's no more ripples in your tired old glory stream
and the buzzards own the of your dream?

B*u*y
sell 'em laughter
america
happy ever after
There's a band on the titanic
singing my god to thee
and the iceberg's on the bow
won't you with me
Yes i read it in the new times
that was on the stands
it said that dreams out of fashion
we'll hear no more promises
be no more wasted passions
to up our play
It really was a good
the went on to say
it shows we are growing up
in oh so healthy ways
and i told this is
exactly i'm at
but i don't much like thinking that
Harry -- are you really so
you can honestly
that the country's getting
all you do is let her alone
harry -- can you really be
when it's before your eyes
when you hold the knife that her
you live the life starves her to the bone
Good dreams don't cheap
you've got to pay for
if you dream when you're asleep
is no way for them
to alive
to
It's not enough to listen -- it's not to see
when the hurricane is coming on it's not enough to
it's not enough to be in love -- we hide behind word
not enough to be alive when your future's been deferred
What i've run through my body, what i've run through my
my breath's the only rhythm -- and the tempo is my
my enemy is hopelessness -- my ally honest
the is a question that i never will find out
Is music propaganda -- should i boogie, rock and
or just an early warning hitched up to my soul
am i observer or participant or huckster of
too much of a life so mercifully brief?
So i stride down streets and the band plays back my song
they're at my shadow long after i am gone
should i hold wistful notion that the journey is worthwhile
or tiptoe cross the with a song and a smile
Well i got up this morning -- i don't need to know no
it nightmares that had boiled the night before
with every new day's dawning my kid in my bed
and tells the cynics of the board room your language is
And as i wander with my music the jungles of despair
my kid will guitar and find his street corner somewhere
he'll make the silence listen to the dream behind the voice
and show his minstrel hamlet daddy there only was one choice
Strum your -- sing it kid
just write your feelings -- not the things you never did
inexperience -- it once had me
but youth is no handicap -- it's what makes you thirsty, hey kid
your guitar -- sing it kid
just write about your feelings -- not the things you did
band...