Nhung Loi Doi Gian

Khi Giac Mo Ve - Phuong Thanh

Tien ban len duong - Lam Truong

999 Doa Hong

Sáng tác: Lê Quang

Trong bóng đêm tôi về, ôm cuộc tình lẻ loi, 
Biết em về đâu mùa hạ, hỡi em về đâu mùa đông. 
Bài thơ xưa anh viết cho em chỉ còn nỗi muộn phiền, 
Bài thơ xưa anh viết cho em chỉ còn nỗi đau. 

Ôm giá băng muôn trùng đi tìm cuộc tình xưa, 
Lá thu về đâu xào xạc ngỡ em về đây mùa đông. 
Dòng sông xưa trôi mãi với anh chỉ còn nỗi đợi chờ, 
Gọi em trong thương nhớ, em ơi có về nơi đây. 

Tìm đâu thấy bước chân em về nơi này, 
Dòng sông cũ vẫn trôi cô đơn anh ngồi nơi đây. 
Và em đã bước đi không còn quay về, 
Mình anh vẫn giá băng bao năm đi về nơi xa.

Đi Về Nơi Xa

Nhật Ký - Triệu Hoàng
by Đỗ Quang

Nhat Ky - Trieu Hoang

Candlelight, cold streets, and three small ghosts in a bottle.

“Whiskey Carol” is another night in my barroom Christmas world, same jukebox, same dive, different ghosts.

Lyrics below 

First round, it’s you in that old red coat,
Lit up like Rudolph, laughin’ at my bad jokes.
Bartender smiles, says, “Haven’t seen her in years,”
But you’re clear as a carol ringin’ in my ears.

We’re slow-dancin’ by the bathroom door,
To some band that never plays here anymore.
I blink and the room snaps back to now,
Just me and this glass and the here-and-how.

Every sip’s a page in a story I know too well,
Every Christmas memory rings like a bell.

This isn’t a choir in a stained-glass hall,
It’s a whiskey carol on a barroom crawl.
Three small ghosts in a bottle on the shelf,
Showin’ me the past, the present, and myself.
No snow on the street, just a flickerin’ glow,
But the truth hits harder than the winter snow.
Tonight my heart is the song they’re singin’ through it all,
In this low-lit barroom, hummin’ a whiskey carol.

Second round walks in wearin’ yesterday’s face,
Eyes worn down from the paper chase.
Phone on the table, buzzin’ overtime,
Scrollin’ through lives that ain’t even mine.

Couple at the end share shots of Still Austin,
Somebody laughs louder, a sound I don’t hear often.
The bartender slides a shot, “It’s on the house,”
Like he knows I’m wrestlin’ with the here-and-now.

This time of year, under twinklin’ lights,
You feel every wrong turn, every almost-right.

This isn’t a choir in a stained-glass hall,
It’s a whiskey carol on a barroom crawl.
Three small ghosts in a bottle on the shelf,
Holdin’ up a mirror till I see myself.
No angels in robes, just a barback’s glow,
But the truth cuts deeper than the afterglow.
Tonight my doubts are the verses that they call,
In this low-lit barroom, hummin’ a whiskey carol.

Third round shows me two different views,
One more night under these same dim hues,
Or a front porch glow with a hand in mine,
Christmas mornin’ in a softer shine.

This isn’t a choir in a stained-glass hall,
It’s a whiskey carol written on this wall.
Three small ghosts in a bottle on the shelf,
Say, “You can choose tomorrow for yourself.”
No church bells ring, just a last call song,
But I toss that shot and try to right what’s wrong,
Singin’ every Christmas in this same old hall.

So I pay my tab, step into the cold night air,
Hummin’ that whiskey carol, hmm-hmm-hmmmm…
Yeah, I’m hummin’ this whiskey carol
Like a quiet prayer.

Can Moi Tinh Con Dau - Dan Truong

cherry115

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