Luyện nghe bài hát Dawn's Highway

Indians scattered on dawn's highway
Ghosts the young child's fragile eggshell mind.

Me and my -ah- and father - and a
and a grandfather - were driving through
the desert, at dawn, and a truck of Indian
workers had hit another car, or just - I don't
know what happened - but were Indians scattered
all the highway, bleeding to death.

So the car pulls up and stops. That was the first
I fear. I musta' been about four - like a child is
like a flower, his head is floating in the
breeze, man.
The reaction I get now thinking it, looking
back - is that the souls of the of those dead
Indians... one or two of 'em... were just
running around freaking out, and just leaped my
soul. And they're in there.

Indians on dawn's highway bleeding
crowd the young child's fragile eggshell mind.

Blood in the in the town of New Haven
Blood stains the roofs and the trees of Venice
in my love in the terrible summer
red sun of Phantastic L.A.

Blood screams her as they chop off her fingers
Blood will be born in the birth if a
Blood is the rose of mysterious
Blood on the rise, it's me.

Indian, Indian what did you die
Indian says, at all.