Luyện nghe bài hát Light Pollution

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

Listening to in his basement
Old songs about the government
It's love of not the market
He said these fuckers on you

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

He got a life, lost his day job
Pushing papers, swinging
Anything to a function
Or to occupy some

You earn this living somehow
You're good as dead without a bank
But it's funny how alive he has down
In that line

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

worry
Don't
worry

The billboards
The flags wave
The playing loud
The game was letting out

And all at
You saw the dust and
tiny sound
Got in his and turned around

Drove out through the crowd and the
Drove out past that center
out past that sickening sprawl
Out past that fenced in

And maybe he control
Fucking the radio
But I bet the stars so close
At the end

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