Texty písní Mat Kearney Young Love Rochester


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I was born in Rochester to a book-making man
Had a fake cigar shop with the games on in the back
See them coming and going letting it ride on thorough breads
The police chief and Tom Hall wondering what was the spread
I carried rich mans bags through brier trying to chase down a little white ball
Learned that any soft place wasn't good for me at all
Daddy'd come home fired up looking for some sort of release
He'd beat the hell of Timmy and Timmy'd beat the hell out of me
I would hop the fence out to those government fields
Run till there was nothing left to feel
Lying there, watching, just disappear
Knowing one day I'm gonna fly on out of here
The same police chief came knocking my first freshman day
Put my daddy in handcuffs and his picture on the front page
Took every one of his suits and all my dignity
I'd walk the halls of Irondequoit looking for any punk to set me free
Got that call to Vietnam, just like everyone else I knew
So scared of the hand grenades, threw them farther than any other troop
Came home like an iron fist, and Timmy tried to take my keys
Ripped open his from pocket, that was the last time he touched me
Moved to an island out west and up to Breckenridge
Met a mermaid on a glass boat, and she promised me some kids
Bought a house in Oregon where you could touch both of the walls
Had a son named Benjamin, and I was so scared of it all
Well, Benjamin walked in the front room where I was cutting up my hash
Looked into his deep blue eyes wondering why I'd been so mad
Flushed a quarter pound down the drain, praying for the mercy to confess
Trying to rip the boy from Rochester right out of my chest
We're gonna walk right out into those heavenly fields
Run like there was no more time to steal
My three boys and the grace of god revealed
Knowing one day you're gonna take me out of here
Knowing one day you're gonna take me out of here
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