Luyện nghe bài hát Antonin Artaud

The man held a gun to the head of God
this holy cow
Put the audience in
Let the slaughtered a bow

The old man's words, white hot
Slicing through butter
The butter is the
The rancid pealing

Scratch pictures on walls
Broken nails and
Hypodermic, hypodermic,
Red fix

One man's poison is mans meat
One man's agony, another mans
Artaud living his neck
Placed firmly in the

Eyes black with
in cramps, contorted
The theater and its
The void and the

Indians wank on his bones
Those Indians wank on his
Those Indians wank on his
...