Luyện nghe bài hát Burning Season

I'm sick of the sight of snot-nosed kid
Cutting a swathe through the age of
Picking at the sores of the dying
And all the prizes for imagination
I don't know what we've got to
But I see the statues to fall
The deisel's turning, the moon is

Ch: What the hell are we for?
I see the smoke on the horizon
I smell the of the burning season
the hell are we waiting for?

I'm sick of the ironies piled up
In this sneery with its knowing smile
I'm sick of the from the Church of Unbelief
All fat, empty and
The out riding naked again
I can't believe we're still this tired old game
Let's get out and cut him down

Ch: the hell are we waiting for? . .

On a smoky sunset, I'm sitting at the wheel
As the traffic by on the ten-lane
Bumper to bumper, nowhere to into the next millenium
I see you drowning in a sea of
Let's go back and get the ones who put you here
The highway's jammed up with
And the anaesthetic are selling by the million

Ch: What the are we waiting here for? . .