Luyện nghe bài hát Dawn's Highway

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