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

There's a kid out on my corner -- hear him strumming a fool
shivering in his dungarees -- but he's going to school
his are made 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 fade his
with a brand new stay pressed shirt -- and some creased and dreams
his face a blemish garden -- but his are virgin clear
his voice is chicken little's -- but he's paul revere
When he catches himself giggling -- he up a sneer
though he'd have a milk shake -- he keeps forcing down the beer
another folkie -- late 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 his home
and his beatles and the rolling stones
boy is staying acoustic.
there's seeger singing in his
he hopes his songs somehow start
to heal the cracks split apart
america plastic
And now dylan dripping from his mouth
hitching himself way down south
to learn a little and blues
from old street men who paid their
'cause they they had nothing to lose
knew it
so just got to it
With cracked old and red clay shoes
playing 1-4-5 chords like good
and cursed with that calls for blood
they put their and feet in mud
but oh they learned the music from way down
the real ones it somewhere
your guitar -- sing it kid
just write about your feelings -- not the things you did
inexperience -- it once had me
but your youth is no handicap -- it's makes you thirsty
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 is the way to write a song
it's you get to microphones the music can go wrong
You see the audience with spotlights in your eyes
your can't feel the highway from where the lear jet flies
when you glide in silent in your padded limousines
you are crying there behind the silver screen
now you battle dragons -- but all turn into frogs
when you grab the wheel of -- you get caught up in the cog
First your art into craft -- then the yahoos start to laugh
then you'll hear the jackals howl 'cause love to watch the fall
they're the lost out there feeding on the wounded and the bleeding
they always are the first to see the cracks upon the
When i started song i was still thirty-three
the age that mozart died and sweet jesus was set
keats and shelley too soon finished, charley would be
and i fantasized some be soon curtailing me
Well today i had my birthday -- i made it thirty-four
mere mortal, not immortal, not anymore
i've got this problem with my aging i no longer can
a tame and toothless tabby can't produce a roar
And i can't help being frightened on midnight afternoons
when i ask the loaded -- why does winter come so soon?
and where are all the girls that i was singing for
the daybreak of my dreams no more
Yeah the minute man is soft -- the mirror's on the shelf
only when the truth's up there -- can you yourself
i am the jester -- who won't gracefully retire
a clumsy clown without a net staggering on the high wire
a collar that has settled round my waist
today slipping by me, it leaves no aftertaste
tomorrow is a daydream, the future's true
am i just a fading fire or a breeze passing
Hello my
i once came to tell everyone story
your was my poetry
and your past my most glory
promise was my prayer
your hypocrisy my
and problems fill my present
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 eating dog and your children eating paint
while the own the flag and sell us sermons on restraint
And while blood's the only that your deaf old ears can hear
and still you will not answer with that coming clear
does it mean there's no ripples in your tired old glory stream
and the buzzards own the carcass of dream?

centennial
sell 'em pre-canned
america
sing ever after
There's a band on the titanic
nearer my god to thee
and the on the starboard 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 passions
to up our play
It really was a good
the went on to say
it shows that we are up
in oh so many healthy
and i told myself is
exactly i'm at
but i don't much like thinking about
-- are you really so naive
you can honestly
that the country's getting
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 the life that starves her to the bone
dreams don't come cheap
you've got to pay for
if you dream when you're asleep
is no way for them
to come
to
It's not enough to listen -- it's not to see
when the hurricane is on it's not enough to flee
not enough to be in love -- we hide behind that word
it's not enough to be alive your future's been deferred
i've 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 -- my ally honest doubt
the answer is a that i never will find out
Is music propaganda -- should i boogie, and roll
or an early warning system hitched up to my soul
am i observer or participant or huckster of
making too much of a so mercifully brief?
So i stride sunny streets and the band plays back my song
they're at my shadow long after i am gone
should i hold this notion that the journey is worthwhile
or tiptoe cross the chasm a song and a smile
Well i got up this morning -- i don't to know no more
it evaporated that had boiled the night before
with every new day's dawning my kid in my bed
and tells the of the board room your language is dead
And as i wander with my music through the jungles of
my kid will learn guitar and his street corner somewhere
there he'll the silence listen to the dream behind the voice
and show his minstrel hamlet daddy there only was one choice
Strum your guitar -- it kid
just write about feelings -- not the things you never did
inexperience -- it had cursed me
but youth is no handicap -- it's what makes you thirsty, hey kid
Strum your -- sing it kid
just write about your feelings -- not the things you did
band...