There Was Only One Choice (edited Version) Lyrics - Harry Chapin

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 cog 

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 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? 

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There's a dance band on the titanic 

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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... 

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