Luyện nghe bài hát 1957

I saw the best of my generation destroyed.
of conviction, conflicted, annoyed.
Kicked at and down. 6 6 6.
Beat. Looking for the quick fix.
Unpopular prophets with
Up against angels in disguise who to rob them;
Who didnt to end up crushed by gods embrace
In the age of the wind blowing and dogs in space;
Whos faces are fading. the loneliest drunk.
In empty rooms haunted by Monk.
Felonious punks and plate squares
That see empty eyes that look straight theirs.
Street walking cheetahs with a gun in each
Who are lost at sea and are desperate to land.
Orpheus descending. in the crooked waters.
Hello Sid Vicious, Brooklyn Dodgers...

No joke. Hit the low note.
We all go to heaven in a row boat.

1957 Bel Air. Interior velvet especially.
Bloody probably. Stereo: Buddy Holly, Presley.
Black Flame Trilogy. louder bass.
Battle sites. Little Rock. Satellites in space
wont help but a few bucks can.
Crew and black leather. Ku Klux Klan.
Men wear hats. In fact, are shared.
Opiates to and parents scared.
The underground is real. Delivered greens to queens.
Perpetual motion of and libertines.
Who suffer all night with pains
on drums and who fight with chains.
Its Faulkner and Baldwin. and curse reality.
Spy vs. spy and the of personality.
can the numbers and the words in my head mean?
Killroy was and so was Buster Crab and Ed Gein.

No joke. Hit the low note.
We all go to in a little row boat.

The pen keeps moving in to sink the jingoes.
Fight em hula hoops, frisbees and pink flamingoes.
Up running all night. sleep ordered.
Have gun will travel. leap forward.
Man on the corner dark glasses free and preaching.
Appetite is monstrous. is Dionysian.
All over the world, so peril in one show.

Arthur Miller marries Marilyn Monroe.
Hard rain falling. sleeping in Gods palms.
clocks ringing. Warrior monks and bomb squads.
Invasion Of The Snatchers. Clairvoyants and mediums.
in nothing. Speed freaks and bohemians.
Red is the new black. files.
Rebels and dragons. Obscenity trials.
Lolita and Bobby Fisher country. No is red,
Just and white. Humphrey Bogart is dead.

No joke. Hit the low note.
We all go to heaven in a row boat.