Luyện nghe bài hát Dawn's Highway

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