Luyện nghe bài hát A Box For Black Paul

Who'll build a box for Paul?
Ah'm enquirin on behalf of his
be beholdin to ya all
For a lil information, yes kinda information
Just who'll dig the
When ya done his room
grabbin anything shines,
throw the down on the street
all his books and his notes.
All the that he wrote
the fucken lot right up in smoke
Aint nuthin sacred anymore
will build a box for Black Paul?
And shootin off his guns
and shootin off their mouths
'Fuck with us ... and die!'
(Let's see that rat of go scuttle in their skulls)
'Cover that eye! that frozen eye!'
Black-puppet, in a heap up the stoning-wall
Blud-puppet, go to sleep, won't scold ya anymore
of ants, wade up the lil red streams
they're for the mother-pool
O lord, cruel, O man it's hot!
And of them ants they yes ilot to the spot
Who threw the first stone at Paul?
'Don't ack us', say the critics and the
The pen-pushers and the
'We jes cum to git dah facks!'
'We jes cum to git dah facks!'
Hey,hey,hey,hey...
is the hammer, that build the scaffold,
and the box...
is the shovel, that dug the hole,
in ground of rocks...
And here is the of stones!
and for each one planted, God knows,
a grown...
These are the Demon-Flowers!
These are the Demon-Flowers!
Stand everyone! Blud-black everyone!
build a box for Black Paul?
Who'll it up the hill?
Not I', said the widow, his veil
'Ah not drive the nail
Or cart his home,
For ah done that one times before,
Yeah! ah done that one times or more,
And why ah dress his wounds?
When he has my dress, nighty,
across the floor'
Who'll build a box for Paul?
Who'll it up the hill?
Who'll it in the black-soil?
And the words and the thickets
the ghosts of his victims
'We you!'
'Ah you!'
this will not hurt a bit,
we'll go up,up,up,up,up Death
up,up,up,up, its breath
O yeah, Death those that favor Death'
Here is the stone, and is the inscription at bare
'Below Black Paul, Under The Upper...
But and Beyond The Surface-Flat-Fall There.'
And all the come on down,
And all you men and crowd around
And all the widows into their skirts
And all the lil gals and the lil
And the scribes mein-pens parsed
All the hullaballoo, all the
All the hullaballoo, all the
All the hullaballoo, all of the
clears his throat of black
singin Black Paul a lonely boy...
We-e-e-ll, ah have one thousand tears
Ah've cryed a tears, its true
And the next stormy ya know,
That ah'm cryin them for you
Well, ah had a gal she was so sweet,
Red dress, and long red hangin down
And heaven yes heaven
Without that lil gal hangin
Well, ya know ah've loin a
and knows ah dun some good things too
But ah confess, my soul will never
Until you, you build
Until ya a box for my gal, too.