| 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 |
| I always felt like I’s in between somethin' |
| Like home and somewhere far away |
| But tonight on the west side in a bar out in Brooklyn |
| I saw tears outline your face |
| How lucky are we? |
| It’s been a hell of a week, but we’re all grown now |
| There’s smoke seepin' out, of your bloody teeth |
| But you’re home somehow |
| I’ll be upstairs with the guitar I’s given |
| When I was barely fourteen |
| When did McGlinchey’s get so damn crowded |
| And why are the crowds so damn green? |
| I lost my mind on the streets of the city |
| Maybe I lost all hope too |
| Took twenty-eight years of blood pumpin' through me |
| To get to this evening with you |
| How lucky are we? |
| It’s been a hell of a week, but we’re all grown now |
| There’s smoke seepin' out, of your bloody teeth |
| But you’re home somehow |
| How lucky are we? |
| It’s been a hell of a week, but we’re all grown now |
| There’s smoke seepin' out, of your bloody teeth |
| But you’re home somehow |