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
On 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, 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, only the worst of mine
Sometimes a man breaks, sometimes he can't bend
When his son's the one who won't understand
The Irish temper, it's history's chains
And the bottle's stain that just won't wash
That just won't wash, wash away
A seed was planted in the sod of nothingness from which you came
And flowers grew, roses bloomed
To form this garden of a 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
The 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 it
Oh, your friends say Boston's beautiful
Oh, your friends say Boston's beautiful
But they didn't live here, they didn't die here
In the Hyde Park years
Oh, your friends say Boston's beautiful
Oh, 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
Oh, your friends say Boston's beautiful
Oh, your friends say Boston's beautiful
But they didn't dream here, they didn't scream here
When no one hears
Oh, your friends say Boston's beautiful
Oh, 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
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