Luyện nghe bài hát The Haves Have Naught

Just look at that shopkeeper his wares
Shouting his pitch but nobody cares
you wonder what keeps him there day after day
Begging for as his hair turns to gray?
Blindly they're a pace
Starving for mercy in a merciless
Only a would make martyrs from heathens
And find them so lively when they're breathing, just barely breathing

Just at that toymaker grinding his gears
Turning no profit, but he care
He keeps smiles on day after day
The children keep and suffering at bay
Blissfully bounding a
Searching for in a merciless place
Only a monster makes fodder saints
And finds so worthless when they're full of grace, so full of grace
But better use of hookers and thieves
greasing the wheels of perfect machines that hum into life?
A of industry
But what is the use of them down
to smother, choke the soul of our town?
I know is another way
But what is so wrong with giving purpose?
(Just how could them out, degrading them without doubt?)
A man like yourself could, bring worth to the
(Bleeding them dry, maybe they'll die you and I?)
the guidance of rulers and tyrants
(And of your guidance, the hands of the tyrants)
These people will just tear apart.
look at that charlatan steeped in deceit
A to the young, to the old, and the meek
Don't you wonder made him so vicious, so sick?
So far out of balance, so and so callous? So married to malice?