Luyện nghe bài hát Light Pollution

John A. Hobson was a man
He used to loan me books and mic
He even got me a
To the Review

to records in his basement
Old folk songs the government
It's love of not the market
He these fuckers push on you

And yells, it don't cry
Whatever will decide
But no hell when you die
So look so worried

He got a night life, his day job
papers, swinging pendulums
Anything to serve a
Or to occupy some

You gotta earn this somehow
You're good as dead without a bank
But it's funny how alive he has felt
In unemployment line

With all that at his feet
The pools of in the street
All of filthy empathy
For the way feeling

Don't
Don't
worry

The shade
The they wave
The playing loud
The baseball game was out

And all at
You saw the and heard
Every sound
Got in his and turned around

Drove out the crowd and the cops
out past that center mall
Drove out past that sprawl
Out that fenced in gold

And he lost control
with the radio
But I bet the stars seem so
At the end

At the end
At the end
At the end
...