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 peach fuzz -- his may be the same
but signed up as a soldier out to play the music game
There are fake patches on his jacket -- he's used bleach to his jeans
with a brand new stay pressed shirt -- and creased and wrinkled dreams
his face a blemish garden -- but his eyes are virgin
his voice is chicken little's -- but he's paul revere
When he catches himself giggling -- he up a sneer
though he'd rather have a milk -- he keeps forcing down the beer
just another folkie -- late in coming down the
riding his guitar -- he left kid with his bike
And he's got running in his bones
he's the kid who's left his home
and his records and the rolling stones
boy is staying acoustic.
there's seeger in his heart
he hopes his songs will start
to heal the cracks that split
america plastic
And now there's dylan dripping from his
hitching himself way down south
to learn a black and blues
from old men who paid their dues
'cause they knew they had to lose
knew it
so just got to it
With old gibsons and red clay shoes
playing 1-4-5 chords like good
and cursed with that calls for blood
put their face and feet in mud
but oh learned the music from way down there
the real ones learn it
Strum your -- sing it kid
just write about feelings -- not the things you never did
inexperience -- it once had me
but your youth is no handicap -- it's what makes you
Hey, kid you know you can hear your as you're kicking up the dust
and the rustling in the shadows tells you you can trust
the capturing of whispers is the way to write a
when you get to microphones the music can go wrong
You can't see the audience with spotlights in eyes
your feet feel the highway from where the lear jet flies
when you glide in splendor in your padded limousines
only you are crying behind the silver screen
now you battle -- but they'll all turn into frogs
when you grab the of fortune -- you get caught up in the cog
First your art into craft -- then the yahoos start to laugh
you'll hear the jackals howl 'cause they love to watch the fall
they're the lost out there feeding on the wounded and the bleeding
always are the first to see the cracks upon the walls
When i started this song i was thirty-three
the age that died and sweet jesus was set free
keats and shelley too soon finished, parker would be
and i fantasized some tragedy'd be curtailing me
just today i had my birthday -- i made it thirty-four
mere mortal, not immortal, not anymore
got this problem with my aging i no longer can ignore
a tame and toothless tabby can't a lion's roar
And i can't being frightened on these midnight afternoons
when i ask the loaded questions -- why does winter come so
and where are all the golden girls i was singing for
the daybreak of my dreams no more
Yeah the minute man is going -- the mirror's on the shelf
only the truth's up there -- can you fool yourself
i am the aged jester -- who won't retire
a clumsy clown without a net staggering on the high wire
Yesterday's a collar that has settled round my
keeps slipping by me, it leaves no aftertaste
tomorrow is a daydream, the never true
am i a fading fire or a breeze passing through?
my country
i once came to tell everyone your
your passion was my
and your my most potent glory
your was my prayer
hypocrisy my nightmare
and your problems fill my
are we both somewhere?
Step right up young -- your two hundred birthdays make you old if not senile
and we see the symptoms there in your rigor mortis
with your old folks dog food and your children eating paint
while the pirates own the flag and sell us sermons on
And blood's the only language that your deaf old ears can hear
and still you will not answer with that message coming
does it there's no more ripples in your tired old glory stream
and the buzzards own the carcass of your

B*u*y
sell 'em laughter
perennial
sing happy after
There's a band on the titanic
singing my god to thee
and the iceberg's on the bow
won't you dance me
Yes i it in the new york times
that was on the stands
it said that dreams were out of
we'll hear no more empty
there'll be no more wasted
to clutter up our
It was a good sign
the words on to say
it shows we are growing up
in oh so many healthy
and i myself this is
where i'm at
but i don't much like thinking that
Harry -- are you so naive
you can believe
the country's getting better
when all you do is let her
harry -- can you really be
when it's there before eyes
when you hold the knife carves her
you live the life that starves her to the
dreams don't come cheap
you've got to pay for
if you just dream you're asleep
there is no way for
to come
to
It's not to listen -- it's not enough to see
when the is coming on it's not enough to flee
it's not to be in love -- we hide behind that word
not enough to be alive when your future's been deferred
What i've run through my body, i've run through my mind
my the only rhythm -- and the tempo is my time
my is hopelessness -- my ally honest doubt
the answer is a that i never will find out
Is music propaganda -- i boogie, rock and roll
or an early warning system hitched up to my soul
am i observer or or huckster of belief
making too much of a life so mercifully
So i stride down streets and the band plays back my song
they're applauding at my shadow after i am gone
should i this wistful notion that the journey is worthwhile
or cross the chasm with a song and a smile
i got up this morning -- i don't need to know no more
it evaporated nightmares that had boiled the night
with every new dawning my kid climbs in my bed
and the cynics of the board room your language is dead
And as i wander with my through the jungles of despair
my kid will guitar and find his street corner somewhere
there he'll the silence listen to the dream behind the voice
and show his minstrel daddy that there only was one choice
your guitar -- sing it kid
just write about your -- not the things you never did
inexperience -- it once had me
but your youth is no -- it's what makes you thirsty, hey kid
Strum guitar -- sing it kid
just write about feelings -- not the things you never did
band...