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.