| Song | Bostons |
| Artist | Have Heart |
| Album | Songs to Scream at the Sun |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| 作曲 : Flynn, Have Heart | |
| Old man, I heard some things about the boy you used to be. | |
| No father, no king, just a broken old man broken by the whiskey. | |
| Too afraid to stay, too smart to not leave, | |
| Too young to be a bird who forgot to sing, | |
| And a ground that never knew the knees | |
| Of a boy and his own tale of two cities. | |
| “sometimes a man breaks, sometimes he can't bend | |
| When his youth is a wound time won't mend. | |
| (never the best of times) | |
| Sometimes a man breaks, sometimes he can't bend | |
| At the thought of peace as something only lent. | |
| (only the worst of mine) | |
| Sometimes a man breaks, sometimes he can't bend | |
| When his son is another one who won't understand…” | |
| The irish temper, it's history's chains, | |
| And the alcoholic's stain that just wont wash away. | |
| But a seed was planted in the sod of nothingness from which you came. | |
| And flowers grew and roses bloomed | |
| To form this garden of life you've made. | |
| And in this city you once knew as hell | |
| Is a garden where I enjoy myself. | |
| And in this father I hardly know | |
| Was a son who took back what the bottle stole | |
| So I could be the boy you couldn't be | |
| Have the father you didn't get to see | |
| Have the youth you did not get to live | |
| Or feel the love this world forgot to give. | |
| And for this gift I don't deserve to get | |
| I'll make damn sure I earn this. | |
| “o' your friends say boston's beautiful, | |
| But they didn't live here, they didn't die here | |
| In the Hyde Park years. | |
| O' your friends say boston's beautiful. | |
| But they didn't live hard, they didn't die hard | |
| When sons dragged out their fathers from bars. | |
| O' your friends say boston's beautiful, | |
| But they didn't dream here, they didn't scream here | |
| When no one hears. | |
| O' your friends say boston's beautiful, | |
| But they didn't hide here they didn't cry here | |
| When little boys weren't allowed to shed their tears.” | |
| There just aren't enough men like you. |
| zuo qu : Flynn, Have Heart | |
| Old man, I heard some things about the boy you used to be. | |
| No father, no king, just a broken old man broken by the whiskey. | |
| Too afraid to stay, too smart to not leave, | |
| Too young to be a bird who forgot to sing, | |
| And a ground that never knew the knees | |
| Of a boy and his own tale of two cities. | |
| " sometimes a man breaks, sometimes he can' t bend | |
| When his youth is a wound time won' t mend. | |
| never the best of times | |
| Sometimes a man breaks, sometimes he can' t bend | |
| At the thought of peace as something only lent. | |
| only the worst of mine | |
| Sometimes a man breaks, sometimes he can' t bend | |
| When his son is another one who won' t understand" | |
| The irish temper, it' s history' s chains, | |
| And the alcoholic' s stain that just wont wash away. | |
| But a seed was planted in the sod of nothingness from which you came. | |
| And flowers grew and roses bloomed | |
| To form this garden of life you' ve made. | |
| And in this city you once knew as hell | |
| Is a garden where I enjoy myself. | |
| And in this father I hardly know | |
| Was a son who took back what the bottle stole | |
| So I could be the boy you couldn' t be | |
| Have the father you didn' t get to see | |
| Have the youth you did not get to live | |
| Or feel the love this world forgot to give. | |
| And for this gift I don' t deserve to get | |
| I' ll make damn sure I earn this. | |
| " o' your friends say boston' s beautiful, | |
| But they didn' t live here, they didn' t die here | |
| In the Hyde Park years. | |
| O' your friends say boston' s beautiful. | |
| But they didn' t live hard, they didn' t die hard | |
| When sons dragged out their fathers from bars. | |
| O' your friends say boston' s beautiful, | |
| But they didn' t dream here, they didn' t scream here | |
| When no one hears. | |
| O' your friends say boston' s beautiful, | |
| But they didn' t hide here they didn' t cry here | |
| When little boys weren' t allowed to shed their tears." | |
| There just aren' t enough men like you. |
| zuò qǔ : Flynn, Have Heart | |
| Old man, I heard some things about the boy you used to be. | |
| No father, no king, just a broken old man broken by the whiskey. | |
| Too afraid to stay, too smart to not leave, | |
| Too young to be a bird who forgot to sing, | |
| And a ground that never knew the knees | |
| Of a boy and his own tale of two cities. | |
| " sometimes a man breaks, sometimes he can' t bend | |
| When his youth is a wound time won' t mend. | |
| never the best of times | |
| Sometimes a man breaks, sometimes he can' t bend | |
| At the thought of peace as something only lent. | |
| only the worst of mine | |
| Sometimes a man breaks, sometimes he can' t bend | |
| When his son is another one who won' t understand" | |
| The irish temper, it' s history' s chains, | |
| And the alcoholic' s stain that just wont wash away. | |
| But a seed was planted in the sod of nothingness from which you came. | |
| And flowers grew and roses bloomed | |
| To form this garden of life you' ve made. | |
| And in this city you once knew as hell | |
| Is a garden where I enjoy myself. | |
| And in this father I hardly know | |
| Was a son who took back what the bottle stole | |
| So I could be the boy you couldn' t be | |
| Have the father you didn' t get to see | |
| Have the youth you did not get to live | |
| Or feel the love this world forgot to give. | |
| And for this gift I don' t deserve to get | |
| I' ll make damn sure I earn this. | |
| " o' your friends say boston' s beautiful, | |
| But they didn' t live here, they didn' t die here | |
| In the Hyde Park years. | |
| O' your friends say boston' s beautiful. | |
| But they didn' t live hard, they didn' t die hard | |
| When sons dragged out their fathers from bars. | |
| O' your friends say boston' s beautiful, | |
| But they didn' t dream here, they didn' t scream here | |
| When no one hears. | |
| O' your friends say boston' s beautiful, | |
| But they didn' t hide here they didn' t cry here | |
| When little boys weren' t allowed to shed their tears." | |
| There just aren' t enough men like you. |