Luyện nghe bài hát The Crock Of Gold

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

Just like the before
When reached the distant shore
With their drink and their
And their dreams and sincere

All ghosts gone, through old buildings they stare
With their offspring staring at me for they are there
Dreams are dead and lives not realized

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

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

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

A musician my call
Of degree professional
But I'm afraid that do not know my trade at all

Well, if it's twenty years
Some small relief to me
Then the of gold will wait until

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

Well, all young people in our
Are overworked and broken
Begging cheques but it's just not enough they're

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

Real life is a time line
And the excitement holds the short
It will measure up to what TV sells as great

All the drunken and views
Exciting pubs tell the news
But the exciting
Well, they just all that great

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

Until that day to myself no more
Lay the of anger at my door
And the of alcohol will stow away, go

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

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

Well, it's on and on I've
Yeah, that's how always been
And how it will be as on I go

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

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

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

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

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