Luyện nghe bài hát Dawn's Highway

Indians on dawn's highway bleeding
crowd the young child's fragile eggshell mind.
Me and my -ah- mother and - and a
and a grandfather - were driving through
the desert, at dawn, and a truck load of
workers had either hit car, or just - I don't
what happened - but there were Indians scattered
all the highway, bleeding to death.
So the car up and stops. That was the first time
I tasted fear. I been about four - like a child is
like a flower, his head is just in the
breeze, man.
The reaction I get now thinking it, looking
back - is the souls of the ghosts of those dead
Indians...maybe one or two of 'em...were
running freaking out, and just leaped into my
soul. And still in there.
scattered on dawn's highway bleeding
Ghosts crowd the young child's eggshell mind.
in the streets in the town of New Haven
Blood stains the roofs and the palm of Venice
Blood in my love in the terrible
Bloody red sun of L.A.
Blood screams her as they chop off her fingers
Blood be born in the birth if a nation
Blood is the rose of union
Blood on the rise, following me.
Indian, what did you die for?
Indian says, at all.