作曲 : Bruce Springsteen He's out of Newark, a retired detective Tryna lose some of what he'd seen He had twenty-five years on the streets Where the Lord does not intervene Packed his shaving kit into a small suitcase Slipped the rosary off the night shelf Just the cross remains of his faith Was all that he had left And the pale sun of the evening Cut through the windshield as he drove Head south on the Jersey Turnpike To the Lady of Monroe He and his wife, they'd raised a daughter But his job was all he'd ever really known Now she was in southern Indiana With a family her own As the refinery fields went rushing by Thought of his little brown-eyed girl Shooting cans in the river with his old .22 As the summer trees unfurled And the pale sun of the evening Slipped down, velvet and low Heard murmured prayers softly rising To the Lady of Monroe His rosary hung from the rearview mirror A map 'neath the Burger King bag in the front seat His gun's tucked deep in the glove box Another useless tool of his trade he'll never need From his desk in the South precinct He'd walked that dirty mile Well, that was all over now He was gonna learn to live, just to live for a while Virgin Mother, give me peace Peace I've never known In the sunlight, lifted hands softly swaying To our Lady of Monroe
[00:00.000] 作曲 : Bruce Springsteen [00:29.064]He's out of Newark, a retired detective [00:34.506]Tryna lose some of what he'd seen [00:39.693]He had twenty-five years on the streets [00:44.855]Where the Lord does not intervene [00:49.861]Packed his shaving kit into a small suitcase [00:54.960]Slipped the rosary off the night shelf [01:00.387]Just the cross remains of his faith [01:05.511]Was all that he had left [01:10.705]And the pale sun of the evening [01:15.644]Cut through the windshield as he drove [01:20.969]Head south on the Jersey Turnpike [01:26.358]To the Lady of Monroe [01:33.952]He and his wife, they'd raised a daughter [01:39.201]But his job was all he'd ever really known [01:44.822]Now she was in southern Indiana [01:49.840]With a family her own [01:54.875]As the refinery fields went rushing by [01:59.844]Thought of his little brown-eyed girl [02:05.056]Shooting cans in the river with his old .22 [02:10.557]As the summer trees unfurled [02:15.722]And the pale sun of the evening [02:21.263]Slipped down, velvet and low [02:26.322]Heard murmured prayers softly rising [02:31.501]To the Lady of Monroe [02:36.208]His rosary hung from the rearview mirror [02:41.317]A map 'neath the Burger King bag in the front seat [02:47.083]His gun's tucked deep in the glove box [02:51.606]Another useless tool of his trade he'll never need [02:57.341]From his desk in the South precinct [03:02.524]He'd walked that dirty mile [03:07.788]Well, that was all over now [03:12.306]He was gonna learn to live, just to live for a while [03:18.452]Virgin Mother, give me peace [03:24.071]Peace I've never known [03:28.300]In the sunlight, lifted hands softly swaying [03:34.189]To our Lady of Monroe
