From the bars of
Wisconsin To the clip joints of L.A. I've
been killing time While trying to make
this guitar gain
There've been people who thrown bottles There've
been people who thrown flowers There've
been people who just threw open their
heart
Oh but rock 'n' roll's the only way
to tell my story I'm a rock 'n' rolling
loser till the end Oh rock 'n' roll's
the only way to tell my story I'm
a rock 'n' rolling loser till the end
There've been clowns There've been
jokers Uplitter prostitutes and queers We
slowly dived together through the years
I've been turned out, turned on Turned
around, turned down I've been built
up, beat out Set up, drinking my pot
All the things that you see All the
sounds that you hear They seem to have
no meaning When you're looking through
a glass of beer
And you're tired, twisted up inside You
feel you don't belong And the buzzman
shouts "Get up there son,
sing one
more song"
|
|
À§½ºÄܽŠ¹Ù¿¡¼ºÎÅÍ LAÀÇ ¼úÁý¿¡
À̸£±â±îÁö ³ª´Â ÀÌ ±âŸ·Î µ·¹úÀ̸¦ ÇÏ¸ç ½Ã°£À»
º¸³»¿Ô¾î
¼úº´À» ´øÁö´Â »ç¶÷µµ ÀÖ¾ú°í ²ÉÀ»
´øÁ® ÁÖ´Â »ç¶÷µµ ÀÖ¾ú°í ¸¶À½À» Ȱ¦ ¿¾î
ÁØ »ç¶÷µµ ÀÖ¾úÁö
ÇÏÁö¸¸ ³» À̾߱⸦ µé·ÁÁÙ ¼ö ÀÖ´Â
À¯ÀÏÇÑ ¹æ¹ýÀº ¶ô¾Ø·Ñ»Ó ³ª´Â ¿µ¿øÈ÷
¹æ¶ûÇÏ´Â ³«¿ÀÀÚ ½Å¼¼ ³» À̾߱⸦ µé·ÁÁÙ ¼ö ÀÖ´Â À¯ÀÏÇÑ ¹æ¹ýÀº ¶ô¾Ø·Ñ»Ó ³ª´Â
¿µ¿øÈ÷ ¹æ¶ûÇÏ´Â ³«¿ÀÀÚ ½Å¼¼
±¤´ëµµ ÀÖ¾ú°í ÀÍ»ì²Ûµµ ÀÖ¾ú°í ¸ÅÃáºÎ¿Í
°ÔÀ̵µ ÀÖ¾úÁö ¿ì¸®´Â ÇÔ²² ¼¼È÷ ¼¼¿ù
¼ÓÀ¸·Î ºüÁ® µé¾î°¬¾î
ÂѰܳª±âµµ Çϰí ÈïºÐµµ ÇÏ°í µ¹¾Æ¼±âµµ
ÇÏ°í °ÅÀýµµ ´çÇØº¸°í Ȱ·Â¿¡ ³ÑÄ¡´Ù°¡µµ
Çǰ£ ÁöÄ¡°í ´ë¸¶ÃÊ¿¡ ÃëÇϱ⵵ Çß¾ú¾î
¸ÆÁÖÀÜÀ» ÅëÇØ ¼¼»óÀ» ¹Ù¶óº»´Ù¸é ´«À¸·Î
¹Ù¶óº» ¸ðµç °Í°ú ±Í·Î µéÀº ¸ðµç ¼Ò¸®´Â ¾Æ¹«·±
Àǹ̰¡ ¾ø¾î º¸¿©
ÁöÄ¡°í ½É¶õÇÏ¸é ¾Æ¹« µ¥µµ °¥ °÷ÀÌ ¾ø´Â
°Í °°¾Æ ±×·¯¸é »ç¶÷µéÀº ÀÌ·¸°Ô ¸»ÇÏÁö "°Å±â
ÀÚ³×, ÀϾ¼
³ë·¡³ª ÇÑ °î »Ì¾ÆºÁ"
|