Luyện nghe bài hát Dawn's Highway

Indians scattered on dawn's highway
Ghosts crowd the young fragile eggshell mind.

Me and my mother and father - and a
grandmother and a grandfather - were through
the desert, at dawn, and a truck of Indian
workers had either hit car, or just - I don't
know what happened - but were Indians scattered
all the highway, bleeding to death.

So the car pulls up and stops. was the first time
I tasted fear. I musta' about four - like a child is
like a flower, his is just floating in the
breeze, man.
The reaction I get now thinking it, looking
- is that the souls of the ghosts of those dead
Indians... maybe one or two of 'em... just
running around freaking out, and just into my
soul. And still in there.

Indians on dawn's highway bleeding
Ghosts the young child's fragile eggshell mind.

in the streets in the town of New Haven
Blood stains the roofs and the palm trees of
Blood in my love in the summer
Bloody red sun of L.A.

screams her brain as they chop off her fingers
Blood will be born in the birth if a
Blood is the rose of mysterious
Blood on the rise, it's me.

Indian, what did you die for?
Indian says, at all.