Luyện nghe bài hát A Box For Black Paul

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

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

there nothin' sacred anymore?
Won't someone will build a box for Black

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

Black puppet in a heap up against the wall
Black puppet go to sleep, mama won't you anymore

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

Who threw the first stone at Paul?

Don't ask us say the and the hacks
The pen and the quacks
We come to get the facts
Oh we come to get the facts

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

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

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

Not I the widow, adjusting her veil
I will not drive the nail or cart his body home
For I done one hundred times before
Yes, one times or more

And why should I his wounds?
When he has my dress
Nightly, right across the

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

From the woods and the
Come the of his victims
We love you, I you
And this not hurt a bit

'Outta my eyes we shall rise to fall, to to glory
Spring up from the
Spring up, up, up, up, up, up, up, up, up, up, up, up death
Up, up, up, up, up, up, up its breath
Yes, favours those that favor death

Here is the stone and this is the at bare
Below Black Paul under the upper
But above and the surface flat fall there

And, and, and, and all the angels come on
And all you men and crowd around
And all the old widows weeping their skites
And all the little gals and the boys
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 cried one thousand
And I've cried a thousand tears, it's
And the next stormy night you
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 just ain't
that little girl hangin' around

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