There Only Was One Choice Lyrics

 There's a kid out on my corner -- hear him strumming like a fool 
 Shivering in his dungarees -- but still he's going to school 
 His cheeks are made of peach fuzz -- his 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 jacket -- he's used bleach to fade his jeans 
 With a brand new stay pressed shirt -- and some creased and wrinkled dreams 
 His face a blemish garden -- but his eyes are virgin clear 
 His voice is Chicken Little's -- But he's hearing Paul Revere 

 When he catches himself giggling -- he forces up a sneer 
 Though he'd rather have a milk shake -- he keeps forcing down the beer 
 Just another folkie -- late in coming down the pike 
 Riding his guitar -- he 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 guitar -- sing it kid 
 Just write about your feelings -- not the things you never did 
 Inexperience -- it once had cursed me 
 But your youth is no handicap -- it'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 dragons -- but they'll all turn into frogs 
 When you grab the wheel of fortune -- you get caught up in the cogs

 First your art turns into craft -- then 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 birthday -- I 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 questions -- Why 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 soft -- the mirror's on the shelf 
 Only when the truth's up there -- can you fool yourself 
 I am the aged jester -- who won't gracefully retire 
 A clumsy clown without a net caught staggering on the high wire 

 Yesterday's a collar that has settled round my waist 
 Today keeps slipping by me, it leaves no aftertaste 
 Tomorrow is a daydream, the future's never true 
 Am I just a fading fire or a breeze passing through? 

 Hello my Country 
 I once came to tell everyone your story
 Your passion was my poetry 
 And your past my most potent glory 
 Your promise was my prayer 
 Your hypocrisy my nightmare 
 And your problems fill my present 
 Are we both going somewhere? 

 Step right up young lady -- Your two hundred birthdays make you old if not
 senile
 And we see the symptoms there in your rigor mortis smile 
 With your old folks eating dog food and your children eating paint 
 While the pirates own the flag and sell us sermons on restraint 

 And while blood's the only language that your deaf old ears can hear 
 And still you will not answer with that message coming clear 
 Does it mean there's no more ripples in your tired old glory stream 
 And the buzzards own the carcass of your dream? 

 B*U*Y Centennial 
 Sell 'em pre-canned laughter 
 American Perennial 
 Sing happy ever after

 There's a Dance Band on the Titanic 
 Singing Nearer My God to Thee 
 And the iceberg's on the starboard bow 
 Won't you dance with me 

 Yes I read it in the New York Times 
 That was on the stands today 
 It said that dreams were out of fashion 
 We'll hear no more empty promises 
 There'll be no more wasted passions 
 To clutter up our play 

 It really was a good sign 
 The words went on to say 
 It shows that we are growing up 
 In oh so many healthy ways 
 And I told myself this is 
 Exactly where I'm at 
 But I don't much like thinking about that 

 Harry -- are you really so naive 
 You can honestly believe 
 That the country's getting better 
 When all you do is let her alone 
 Harry -- Can you really be surprised 
 when it's there before your eyes 
 when you hold the knife that carves her 
 you live the life that starves her to the bone 

 Good dreams don't come cheap 
 You've got to pay for them 
 If you just dream when you're asleep 
 There is no way for them 
 to come alive 
 to survive 

 It's not enough to listen -- it's not enough to see 
 When the hurricane is coming on it's not enough to flee 
 It's not enough to be in love -- we hide behind that word 
 It's not enough to be alive when your future's been deferred 

 What I've run through my body, what I've run through my mind 
 My breath's the only rhythm -- and the tempo is my time 
 My enemy is hopelessness -- my ally honest doubt 
 The answer is a question that I never will find out 

 Is music propaganda -- should I boogie, Rock and Roll 
 Or just an early warning system hitched up to my soul 
 Am I observer or participant or huckster of belief 
 Making too much of a life so mercifully brief? 

 So I stride down sunny streets and the band plays back my song 
 They're applauding at my shadow long after I am gone 
 Should I hold this wistful notion that the journey is worthwhile 
 Or tiptoe cross the chasm with a song and a smile 

 Well I got up this morning -- I don't need to know no more 
 It evaporated nightmares that had boiled the night before 
 With every new day's dawning my kid climbs in my bed 
 And tells the cynics of the board room your language is dead 

 And as I wander with my music through the jungles of despair 
 My kid will learn guitar and find his street corner somewhere 
 There he'll make the silence listen to the dream behind the voice 
 And show his minstrel Hamlet daddy that there only was one choice 

 Strum your guitar -- sing it kid 
 Just write about your feelings -- not the things you never did
 Inexperience -- it once had cursed me 
 But your youth is no handicap -- it's what makes you thirsty, hey kid 

 Strum your guitar -- sing it kid 
 Just write about your feelings -- not the things you never did 

 Dance Band...