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

There's a kid out on my -- hear him strumming like a fool
in his dungarees -- but still he's going to school
his cheeks are made of fuzz -- his hopes may be the same
but he's signed up as a soldier out to play the music
There are fake patches on his jacket -- he's used bleach to fade his
with a brand new stay pressed -- and some creased and wrinkled dreams
his face a blemish garden -- but his eyes are clear
his voice is chicken -- but he's hearing paul revere
When he catches himself giggling -- he up a sneer
though he'd rather have a milk shake -- he keeps down the beer
just another folkie -- in coming down the pike
riding his guitar -- he left kid brother his bike
And got guthrie running in his bones
he's the hobo kid who's left his
and his beatles and the rolling stones
boy is staying acoustic.
there's singing in his heart
he his songs will somehow start
to heal the cracks that apart
america gone
And now there's dylan from his mouth
hitching himself way down south
to learn a black and blues
from old street men who paid their
'cause they knew they had to lose
knew it
so just got to it
With cracked old and red clay shoes
playing 1-4-5 chords like news
and cursed with that calls for blood
they put their and feet in mud
but oh they the music from way down there
the real ones it somewhere
Strum guitar -- sing it kid
write about your feelings -- not the things you never did
inexperience -- it once had me
but your youth is no handicap -- it's what you thirsty
Hey, kid you you can hear your footsteps as you're kicking up the dust
and the rustling in the shadows you secrets you can trust
the of whispers is the way to write a song
it's when you get to the music can go wrong
You see the audience with spotlights in your eyes
your feet can't feel the highway where the lear jet flies
when you glide in silent splendor in your limousines
only you are there behind the silver screen
now you battle dragons -- but they'll all turn into
when you the wheel of fortune -- you get caught up in the cog
First art turns into craft -- then the yahoos start to laugh
then you'll hear the jackals howl 'cause they love to watch the
the lost ones out there feeding on the wounded and the bleeding
they are the first to see the cracks upon the walls
When i this song i was still thirty-three
the age that mozart and sweet jesus was set free
keats and shelley too soon finished, charley parker be
and i fantasized some tragedy'd be soon me
Well just today i had my birthday -- i it thirty-four
mortal, not immortal, not star-crossed anymore
i've got this problem my aging i no longer can ignore
a tame and toothless can't produce a lion's roar
And i can't being frightened on these midnight afternoons
when i ask the questions -- why does winter come so soon?
and are all the golden girls that i was singing for
the of my dreams serenades no more
Yeah the minute man is going -- the mirror's on the shelf
only when the up there -- can you fool yourself
i am the aged jester -- who gracefully retire
a clumsy clown a net caught staggering on the high wire
Yesterday's a collar that has round my waist
today slipping by me, it leaves no aftertaste
tomorrow is a daydream, the never true
am i just a fading fire or a breeze through?
my country
i once came to tell everyone your
your was my poetry
and your past my most glory
promise was my prayer
your my nightmare
and your fill my present
are we both going
Step right up young lady -- two hundred birthdays make you old if not senile
and we see the symptoms there in rigor mortis smile
your old folks eating dog food and your children eating paint
while the pirates own the flag and us sermons on restraint
And while blood's the only language your deaf old ears can hear
and still you will not answer with that coming clear
does it there's no more ripples in your tired old glory stream
and the buzzards own the carcass of your

centennial
sell 'em laughter
america
sing happy ever
There's a band on the titanic
singing nearer my god to
and the on the starboard bow
won't you dance me
Yes i read it in the new times
that was on the stands
it said dreams were out of fashion
we'll no more empty promises
there'll be no wasted passions
to up our play
It was a good sign
the words on to say
it shows that we are up
in oh so healthy ways
and i myself this is
where i'm at
but i don't much like thinking about
-- are you really so naive
you can believe
the country's getting better
when all you do is let her
harry -- can you be surprised
when it's there your eyes
when you hold the knife carves her
you the life that starves her to the bone
Good dreams don't come
you've got to pay for
if you dream when you're asleep
there is no way for
to alive
to
It's not enough to -- it's not enough to see
when the hurricane is on it's not enough to flee
it's not enough to be in love -- we hide behind word
it's not enough to be alive your future's been deferred
What i've run through my body, what i've run my mind
my the only rhythm -- and the tempo is my time
my enemy is hopelessness -- my ally honest
the answer is a question that i will find out
Is music propaganda -- should i boogie, and roll
or just an early system hitched up to my soul
am i observer or participant or huckster of
making too much of a life so mercifully
So i down sunny streets and the band plays back my song
they're applauding at my shadow long after i am
should i hold this wistful notion the journey is worthwhile
or cross the chasm with a song and a smile
Well i got up this morning -- i don't need to know no
it evaporated nightmares 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 through the jungles of despair
my kid learn guitar and find his street corner somewhere
there he'll make the silence listen to the behind the voice
and show his minstrel hamlet daddy that there only was one
Strum your -- sing it kid
just about your feelings -- not the things you never did
inexperience -- it once had me
but your youth is no handicap -- it's what you thirsty, hey kid
Strum your guitar -- it kid
just write your feelings -- not the things you never did
band...