Luyện nghe bài hát 1957

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

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

1957 Bel Air. Interior velvet especially.
Bloody probably. Stereo: Holly, Elvis Presley.
Flame Trilogy. Quadruple louder bass.
Battle sites. Little Rock. Satellites in space
Words wont but a few bucks can.
cuts and black leather. Ku Klux Klan.
Men hats. In fact, harems are shared.
addicted to and parents scared.
The underground is real. Delivered greens to queens.
Perpetual of free-thinkers and libertines.
Who suffer alone all night pains
Hooked on drums and who fight chains.
Its Faulkner and Baldwin. Insult and 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 with hula hoops, frisbees and flamingoes.
Up all night. Late sleep ordered.
Have gun will travel. leap forward.
Man on the corner with dark free and preaching.
Appetite is monstrous. is Dionysian.
All over the world, so much in one show.

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

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