Luyện nghe bài hát Dawn's Highway

Indians scattered on highway bleeding
Ghosts crowd the child's fragile eggshell mind.

Me and my -ah- mother and - and a
grandmother and a grandfather - 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 pulls up and stops. was the first time
I fear. I musta' 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... just
running around freaking out, and just into my
soul. And still in there.

Indians scattered on highway bleeding
Ghosts crowd the young fragile eggshell mind.

Blood in the streets in the of New Haven
Blood stains the roofs and the trees of Venice
Blood in my love in the terrible
Bloody red sun of L.A.

Blood screams her brain as they off her fingers
Blood be born in the birth if a nation
Blood is the rose of mysterious
Blood on the rise, following me.

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