Luyện nghe bài hát A Box For Black Paul

Who'll build a box for Paul?
I'm enquirin' on of his soul
I'd be beholdin' to ya all for a information
Just a little indication, just who will dig the

When ya done his room, grabbin' anythin' that shines
I throw the scraps down on a street like all his books and his
All his books and his notes and all the junk he wrote
The whole fuckin' lot right up in

Ain't nothin' sacred anymore?
Won't someone build a box for Black Paul?

They're shootin' off his guns, they're shootin' off their
'Fuck with us and die', fuck with us and die
Let's see that rat of fear go scuttle in their
Cover eye, cover that frozen eye

puppet in a heap up against the stonin' wall
Black puppet go to sleep, mama scold you anymore

Armies of wade up the little red streams
Are for the mother pool
Oh Lord cruel, oh man it's hot
Oh man, it's hot and some of those they just clap to the spot

Who threw the first stone at Black

ask us say the critics and the hacks
The pen pushers and the
We just come to get the
Oh we just come to get the

Here is the hammer that build the and built the box
Here is the shovel dug a hole in this ground of rocks
And is the pile of stones and for each one planted
God only knows, a blood rose and listen

These are the demon flowers
These are the true demon
Stand everyone, blood black everyone
black, stand back

Who'll build a box for Paul?
And who'll carry it up the

Not I said the widow, adjusting her
I will not drive the nail or his puppet body home
For I done that one hundred times
Yes, one hundred or more

And why should I dress his
he has wounded my dress
Nightly, across the floor

Who'll build a box for Black
And who'll, who'll carry it up the
Now who'll him in the black soil?

From the and the thickets
Come the ghosts of his
We love you, I you
And will not hurt a bit

'Outta my eyes we shall rise to fall, to to glory
Spring up the [Incomprehensible]
Spring up, up, up, up, up, up, up, up, up, up, up, up into
Up, up, up, up, up, up, up inhale its
Yes, favours those that favor death

Here is the stone and this is the inscription at
lies Black Paul under the upper
But and beyond the surface flat fall there

And, and, and, and all the angels on down
And all you men and women crowd
And all the old widows weeping into skites
And all the little gals and the little
And the scribes with their pens

All the hullabaloo, all the
All the hullabaloo, all the
All the hullabaloo, all of the
Clears his throat of Blood
And Black Paul singin' a lonely boy

Well, I have one thousand tears
And I've cried a tears, it's true
And the next stormy you know
That I'm cryin' them for you

Well, I had, I had a gal, she was so
Red dress, long and red hair hangin'
And heaven ain't heaven
that little girl hangin' around

Well, am I laughin' about bein' a bad
The Lord knows I done some things too
But I confess my will never rest until you, until you've built
Until you a box for my gal too, my gal too, my gal too