Luyện nghe bài hát A Box For Black Paul

Who'll build a box for Paul?
enquirin on behalf of his soul
Ah'd be to ya all
For a lil information, yes kinda information
Just dig the hole?
When ya ransackin his room
grabbin anything shines,
the scrap down on the street
Like all his and his notes.
All the that he wrote
the fucken lot right up in smoke
Aint nuthin sacred anymore
Someone will build a box for Paul?
And there shootin off his
and shootin off their mouths
'Fuck with us ... and die!'
(Let's see that rat of fear go in their skulls)
'Cover that eye! Cover frozen eye!'
Black-puppet, in a heap up the stoning-wall
Blud-puppet, go to sleep, ma-ma won't scold ya
of ants, wade up the lil red streams
they're for the mother-pool
O lord, cruel, O man it's hot!
And some of 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...
Here is the hammer, build the scaffold,
and the box...
is the shovel, that dug the hole,
in this of rocks...
And is the pile of stones!
and for one planted, God only knows,
a grown...
are the true Demon-Flowers!
These are the Demon-Flowers!
Stand everyone! Blud-black everyone!
Who'll a box for Black Paul?
carry it up the hill?
Not I', the widow, adjusting his veil
'Ah will not drive the
Or cart his home,
For ah done that one times before,
Yeah! ah done one hundred times or more,
And why should ah his wounds?
he has wounded my dress, nighty,
Right the floor'
build a box for Black Paul?
Who'll it up the hill?
bury it in the black-soil?
And the words and the thickets
Come the 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, inhale its
O yeah, Death favours those that favor
is the stone, and this is the inscription at bare
'Below Black Paul, Under The Upper...
But and Beyond The Surface-Flat-Fall There.'
And all the angels on down,
And all you men and women around
And all the weeping into their skirts
And all the lil gals and the lil
And the with 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 like a lonely boy...
We-e-e-ll, ah have cryed one thousand
cryed a thousand tears, its true
And the next night ya know,
ah'm still cryin them for you
Well, ah had a gal she was so sweet,
Red dress, and long red hair down
And yes ain't heaven
Without that lil gal around
Well, ya know loin a bad-man
and Lord knows ah dun some good too
But ah confess, my soul will never
Until you, you build
Until ya a box for my gal, too.