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± PPS (tempo): ♩ = 108-110 pulsaciones por minuto
You took a train To the south side of Boston, You showed me where your Old man stayed, Took twenty-eight years Of blood I was lost in To feel loved on my own birthday. And I always felt Like I’s in between something, Like home and somewhere far away, But tonight, on the west side In a bar out in Brooklyn I saw tears outline Your face. Chorus: How lucky are we? It’s been a hell of a week, But you’re all grown now. There’s smoke seeping out Of your bloody teeth, But you’re home somehow. And I’ll be upstairs With the guitar I’s given, When I was barely fourteen, When did McGlinchey’s get so crowded And why are the crowds So damn green? I lost my mind On the streets of the city, And maybe I lost all hope too. Took twenty-eight years Of blood pumping through me, To get to this evening With you. Chorus: How lucky are we? It’s been a hell of a week, But you’re all grown now. There’s smoke seeping out Of the bar down the street, But we’re home somehow. How lucky are we? It’s been a hell of a week, But you’re all grown now. There’s smoke seeping out Of the bar down the street, But we’re home somehow. You took a train To the south side of Boston, You showed me where your Whole heart stayed, Took twenty-eight years Of blood pumping through me To feel loved on my own birthday.