Luyện nghe bài hát A Town Called Luckey

Happy birthday, halfway to 60
You have no of your own
A job you
And a lover mean

And you started noticing a thing
Birds eating other just beyond the screen
So you packed up your things and hopped on the freeway headed
And you for eight days aimlessly

Telling to be humble
to yourself to be free
Being full aware that it's a aged crisis type thing

And you drove you saw a sign for a town called Luckey
Spelled
Where the sugar rise til the line and meet the streets
Checked a motel, slept on cardboard sheets

I covered the bloodstained matress
to the local bar and you got yourself a drink

Telling yourself to be
Singing to yourself to be
It's a middle aged crisis type

It was the most group you had ever seen
A man with a moustache, a bow tie and nothing between
Looking like a preacher son who had given in the scene
He was a real looker and he you a drink

And you to tell him everything
And you were a bit hysterical it seemed
You laughed like a carburettor you screamed
Oh the doubt and the

yourself to be humble
Singing to to be free
It's a middle aged crisis thing

And he you how he came to be
As an alterboy by his father's
And how he to lose his faith
There was no touching but advances were

And his father's hand in motion it was approaching him
And the doubt and disbelief crept over his young like the black ocean

A stormcloud, a if you will
A stormcloud, a

yourself to be humble
Singing to to be free
It's a middle aged type thing
a middle aged crisis type thing

Go home lady, find happy
It's a middle aged crisis type thing
It's a aged crisis type thing
a middle aged crisis type thing
It's a middle aged crisis thing
It's a middle aged crisis thing
It's a middle aged crisis type