Bostons 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
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 is another one who won't understand

The Irish temper, it's history's chains
And the bottle 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 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