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

There's a kid out on my -- hear him strumming like a fool
shivering in his dungarees -- but still going to school
his cheeks are of peach fuzz -- his hopes may be the same
but he's signed up as a soldier out to play the game
There are fake patches on his jacket -- he's used bleach to his jeans
with a brand new pressed shirt -- and some creased and wrinkled dreams
his face a blemish garden -- but his eyes are virgin
his voice is chicken little's -- but hearing paul revere
When he catches himself giggling -- he forces up a
though he'd have a milk shake -- he keeps forcing down the beer
just another folkie -- in coming down the pike
riding his -- 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
this boy is acoustic.
there's seeger in his heart
he hopes his songs will start
to heal the cracks split apart
america plastic
And now dylan dripping from his mouth
he's himself way down south
to learn a black and blues
from old street men who their dues
'cause they they had nothing to lose
they it
so just got to it
With old gibsons and red clay shoes
playing chords like good news
and cursed with that calls for blood
they put their and feet in mud
but oh they learned the from way down there
the ones learn it somewhere
Strum your guitar -- it kid
just write about your feelings -- not the you never did
inexperience -- it had cursed me
but your youth is no handicap -- it's makes you thirsty
Hey, kid you know you can hear footsteps as you're kicking up the dust
and the rustling in the tells you secrets you can trust
the capturing of whispers is the way to a song
when you get to microphones the music can go wrong
You can't see the audience spotlights in your eyes
your feet can't feel the from where the lear jet flies
when you glide in silent splendor in your padded
only you are there 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 turns into craft -- then the start to laugh
then you'll the jackals howl 'cause they love to watch the fall
they're the lost ones out there feeding on the wounded and the
they always are the first to see the cracks upon the
When i started this i was still thirty-three
the age that mozart died and jesus was set free
keats and too soon finished, charley parker would be
and i fantasized some tragedy'd be soon me
Well just today i had my birthday -- i made it
mere mortal, not immortal, not anymore
i've got problem with my aging i no longer can ignore
a tame and toothless tabby can't a lion's roar
And i can't help being frightened on these midnight
when i ask the loaded questions -- why winter come so soon?
and where are all the golden that i was singing for
the of my dreams serenades no more
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 clown a net caught staggering on the high wire
Yesterday's a collar that has settled round my
today keeps by me, it leaves no aftertaste
tomorrow is a daydream, the never true
am i just a fading fire or a passing through?
my country
i once came to tell everyone story
your was my poetry
and your my most potent glory
promise was my prayer
your my nightmare
and your problems my present
are we both somewhere?
Step right up young lady -- your two hundred birthdays you old if not senile
and we see the symptoms there in rigor mortis smile
with your old folks eating dog food and your eating paint
while the pirates own the flag and us sermons on restraint
And while blood's the only language that your old ears can hear
and still you will not answer with that message clear
does it mean there's no ripples in your tired old glory stream
and the buzzards own the of your dream?

centennial
sell 'em laughter
america
happy ever after
There's a band on the titanic
singing nearer my god to
and the on the starboard bow
you dance with me
Yes i read it in the new york
that was on the today
it said that dreams 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 told myself is
exactly i'm at
but i don't like thinking about that
-- are you really so naive
you can honestly
that the country's better
when all you do is let her
harry -- can you be surprised
when it's before your eyes
you hold the knife that carves her
you live the life that her to the bone
Good don't come cheap
got to pay for them
if you just dream you're asleep
there is no way for
to alive
to
not enough to listen -- it's not enough to see
when the hurricane is coming on it's not to flee
it's not enough to be in love -- we hide behind word
not enough to be alive when your future's been deferred
What run through my body, what i've run through my mind
my breath's the only rhythm -- and the is my time
my enemy is hopelessness -- my honest doubt
the answer is a question that i never find out
Is music propaganda -- should i boogie, rock and
or just an early warning system up to my soul
am i observer or or huckster of belief
making too much of a so mercifully brief?
So i stride down sunny streets and the plays back my song
they're applauding at my long after i am gone
should i hold this notion that the journey is worthwhile
or tiptoe cross the with a song and a smile
Well i got up morning -- i don't need to know no more
it evaporated nightmares that had boiled the before
with every new dawning my kid climbs in my bed
and tells the cynics of the board your language is dead
And as i with my music through the jungles of despair
my kid will learn guitar and find his street corner
there he'll make the listen to the dream behind the voice
and show his minstrel daddy that there only was one choice
Strum guitar -- 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
Strum your guitar -- it kid
just write about your -- not the things you never did
band...