Luyện nghe bài hát Folk Singer

As I these narrow streets
a million passin' feet are before me
With my guitar in my
Suddenly I realize knows me

Well, the motor toots screamed
And cried my name out for a
Now the streets are
And the they go on home

the rain on my face
There's no place I belong
And my whole consists of a story
Of poem at a

Now the truths I've tried to you
Are as distant as the
More hundred years too late
Two hundred years too

I'm a of the sage
Lord's been in the pages of a
But I'm dust and clay
Where other stop and to look

And will marvel and miracles
And perform into the size to the spider
Oh, will they take the of the book to light of fire?

the rain on my face
There's no place where I