[00:00.000] 作曲 : Don McLean
[00:00.00]I was walking by the graveyard,
[00:04.47]late last Friday night,
[00:07.70]I heard somebody yelling, it sounded like a fight.
[00:13.10]It was just a drunken hobo dancing circles in the night,
[00:18.79]Pouring whiskey on the headstones in the blue moonlight.
[00:26.15]So often haveI wondered where these homeless brothers go,
[00:32.22]Down in some hidden valley were their sorrows cannot show,
[00:37.86]Where the police cannot find them, where the wanted men can go.
[00:43.75]There's freedom when your walking, even though you're walking slow.
[00:50.69]Smash your bottle on a gravestone and live while you can,
[00:56.79]that homeless brother is my friend.
[01:02.89]It's hard to be a pack rat, it's hard to be a 'bo,
[01:08.69]but living's so much harder where the heartless people go.
[01:14.33]Somewhere the dogs are barking and the children seem to know
[01:20.60]That Jesus on the highway was a lost hobo.
[01:27.39]And they hear the holy silence of the temples in the hill,
[01:33.59]And they see the ragged tatters as another kind of thrill.
[01:39.51]And they envy him the sunshine and they pity him the chill,
[01:45.37]And they're sad to do their living for some other kind of thrill.
[01:52.57]Smash your bottle on a gravestone and live while you can,
[01:58.81]that homeless brother is my friend.
[02:04.53]Somewhere there was a woman, somewhere there was a child,
[02:08.70]Somewhere there was a cottage where the marigolds grew wild.
[02:16.80]But some where's just like nowhere when you leave it for a while,
[02:22.44]You'll find the broken-hearted when you're travelling jungle-style.
[02:29.27]Down the bowels of a broken land where numbers live like men,
[02:35.68]Where those who keep their senses have them taken back again,
[02:40.95]Where the night stick cracks with crazy rage, where madmen don't pretend,
[02:47.95]Where wealth has no beginning and poverty no end.
[02:54.30]Smash your bottle on a gravestone and live while you can,
[03:00.70]that homeless brother is my friend.
[03:06.42]The ghosts of highway royalty have vanished in the night,
[03:12.53]The Whitman wanderer walking toward a glowing inner light.
[03:18.22]The children have grown older and the cops have gripped us tight,
[03:24.43]There's no spot round the melting pot for free men in their flight.
[03:31.31]And you who leave on promises and prosper as you please,
[03:38.14]The victim of your riches often dies of your disease,
[03:43.69]He can't hear the factory whistle, just the lonesome freight train's wheeze,
[03:50.19]He's living on good fortune, he ain't dying on his knees.
[03:56.46]Smash your bottle on a gravestone and live while you can,
[04:02.99]that homeless brother is my friend.
[04:08.58]That homeless brother is my friend.