Harry Chapin
–
There Was Only One Choice
- Продолжительность:
- 14:01
- Формат:
- mp3
На этой странице Вы можете скачать песню Harry Chapin — There Was Only One Choice в формате mp3 или слушать её онлайн совершенно бесплатно. Наслаждайтесь лучшими треками, альбомами и новинками в исполнении Harry Chapin без ограничений.
Текст песни "Harry Chapin — There Was Only One Choice"
There's a kid out on my cornerhear him strumming like a fool
Shivering in his dungareesbut still he's going to school
His cheeks are made of peach fuzzhis hopes may be the same
But he's signed up as a soldier out to play the music game
There are fake patches on his jackethe's used bleach to fade his jeans
With a brand new stay pressed shirtand some creased and wrinkled dreams
His face a blemish gardenbut his eyes are virgin clear
His voice is Chicken Little'sBut he's hearing Paul Revere
When he catches himself gigglinghe forces up a sneer
Though he'd rather have a milk shakehe keeps forcing down the beer
Just another folkielate in coming down the pike
Riding his guitarhe left Kid brother with his bike
And he's got Guthrie running in his bones
He's the hobo kid who's left his home
And his Beatles records and the Rolling Stones
This boy is staying acoustic.
There's Seeger singing in his heart
He hopes his songs will somehow start
To heal the cracks that split apart
America gone plastic
And now there's Dylan dripping from his mouth
He's hitching himself way down south
To learn a little black and blues
From old street men who paid their dues
'Cause they knew they had nothing to lose
They knew it
So they just got to it
With cracked old Gibsons and red clay shoes
Playing 1-4-5 chords like good news
And cursed with skin that calls for blood
They put their face and feet in mud
But oh they learned the music from way down there
The real ones learn it somewhere
Strum your guitarsing it kid
Just write about your feelingsnot the things you never did
Inexperienceit once had cursed me
But your youth is no handicapit's what makes you thirsty
Hey, kid you know you can hear your footsteps as you're kicking up the dust
And the rustling in the shadows tells you secrets you can trust
The capturing of whispers is the way to write a song
It's when you get to microphones the music can go wrong
You can't see the audience with spotlights in your eyes
Your feet can't feel the highway from where the Lear jet flies
When you glide in silent splendor in your padded limousines
Only you are crying there behind the silver screen
Now you battle dragonsbut they'll all turn into frogs
When you grab the wheel of fortuneyou get caught up in the cog
First your art turns into craftthen the yahoos start to laugh
Then you'll hear the jackals howl 'cause they love to watch the fall
They're the lost ones out there feeding on the wounded and the bleeding
They always are the first to see the cracks upon the walls
When I started this song I was still thirty-three
The age that Mozart died and sweet Jesus was set free
Keats and Shelley too soon finished, Charley Parker would be
And I fantasized some tragedy'd be soon curtailing me
Well just today I had my birthdayI made it thirty-four
Mere mortal, not immortal, not star-crossed anymore
I've got this problem with my aging I no longer can ignore
A tame and toothless tabby can't produce a lion's roar
And I can't help being frightened on these midnight afternoons
When I ask the loaded questionsWhy does winter come so soon?
And where are all the golden girls that I was singing for
The daybreak chorus of my dreams serenades no more
Yeah the minute man is going softthe mirror's on the shelf
Only when the truth's up therecan you fool yourself
I am the aged jesterwho won't gracefully retire
A clumsy clown without a net caught staggering on the high wire