Cross-country charter, this afternoon, after a loss in overtime,

Suits on a tarmac, headed off to warmer climes

But there’s a black car waiting, to take him back to the city, cause if he makes that flight

He’ll be bar down at South Side tonight.

He’s trading palm trees for memories and cold ass Boston nights

With the same ten guys he skated with back in 1995

Cause rusted chain-link, little towns, have a certain way of finding

Ways to let you know who are just when you need reminding

And after your worst or your best damn days when the crowd has gone away

I thank the Lord this town is made of folks who stay, long after the parade.

Across the bar, guys are laughing, pounding their Bud Lights

Like their dads did in parking lots after hockey Friday nights

Life took from them the kid of things, that would make you question why

He'd every let that kind of shit, happen in our lives

But they made plans, so damn the chair, they're boarding Nashville flights

And their singing out to the things they've lost, every Wednesday night

Cause rusted chain-link, little towns, have a certain way of finding

Ways to let you know who are just when you need reminding

And after your worst or your best damn days when the crowd has gone away

I thank the Lord this town is made of folks who stay, long after the parade

 

Now Boston ain't the kind of town to let a good dream die

We've got our bars, our dreams, our scars, and they're the ties that bind.

 

Cause rusted chain-link, little towns, have a certain way of finding

Ways to let you know who are just when you need reminding

And after your worst or your best damn days when the crowd has gone away

I thank the Lord this town is made of folks who stay, long after the parade.

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