Luyện nghe bài hát The Crock Of Gold

We'll live out our lives on this dirty old
because we just can't compete
But in the concrete of our younger
We our names, our names

Just like the before
When they reached the shore
With their drink and their
And their dreams and aims

All ghosts long gone, through old buildings they
With their offspring at me for they are still there
Dreams that are and lives not realized

Well, why did we our names
In these streets to show we're
Alive, alive, alive,

Well, Chicago is my and I'll never went to Roam
To on any sun swept distant shore
Well, it is that I was by forbearer's so revered
And I sing the that they all sang before

Well, any woman neared me
Has been repelled thoroughly
I'm a lover, God, I am foremost of all

A musician that's my
Of high professional
But I'm that they do not know my trade at all

Well, if it's every twenty
Some relief to me appears
Then the crock of will wait until

Until that day to myself no more
Lay the shield of at my door
And the sword of alcohol will stow

Well, all young in our town
Are and broken down
Begging cheques but it's just not enough giving

Crying quietly, living so desperately
something has to make
This life living

Real life is a time line
And the excitement holds the times
It will never up to what TV sells as great

All the drunken jokes and
Exciting pubs they the news
But the pats
Well, they just all that great

Well, if it's twenty years
Some small to me appears
the crock of gold will wait

Until that day to defend no more
Lay the shield of anger at my
And the sword of alcohol stow away, go

Well, I met a girl one
And enchantment our sight
So we decided we would hold it for

But she would not me
So inside me finally, I said, "It's not your
But I would like if only for a while"

Well, it's on and on seen
Yeah, that's how it's always
And how it be as ever on I go

Oh, but on I will
Through all the banal times
Well, I find some
To me that seems like

Well, and if it's every twenty
Some small relief to me
Then the crock of gold wait

that day to defend myself no more
Lay the shield of at my door
And the sword of alcohol stow away

Well, and if every twenty years
Some small relief to me
Then the crock of gold will

that day to defend myself no more
Lay the of anger at my door
And the sword of alcohol will away