Luyện nghe bài hát Aqualung

Sitting on a bench --
eyeing ittle with bad intent.
Snot down his nose --
greasy fingers smearing clothes.
in the cold sun --
Watching as the frilly run.
like a dead duck --
spitting out of his broken luck.
Sun streaking --
an old man lonely.
time
the way he knows.
Leg bad,
as he to pick a dog-end --
he down to the bog
and his feet.

Feeling --
the army's up the
la mode and
a cup of tea.
Aqualung my --
don't away uneasy
you poor old sod, you see, only me.
Do you remember
December's foggy --
when the ice
clings on to beard is
agony.
And you snatch your last breaths
deep-sea-diver sounds,
and the flowers like
in the spring.