Luyện nghe bài hát Folklore

I've your mouth moving, heard others here say,
Those words are a piece of a part that you
That sounds your father, a teacher, the church
Didn't spring from the heart, but

The only way I is put the fist in and get burned
Go get

Old wives, mystics,
Wise men, men, shamen and sage
When you're on the Earth, when you die you will pay
For accepting that lot, in the of graves
The sexes divided, men mustn't be
Sensitivity is a vice of which we shan't
And women are a plaything that are made for men
To how the boss he respects treats him
And I am to grow up like daddy wanted me to be
To impress all those, who so me
And young melt into men
And we'll start the process

Add a touch of mystique where the gets weak
Break up coherence with a up technique
When got nothing to say
up
Or that you're willing to play
With words simply aren't out of touch
With the feelings which lead to their birth
things are better not written or heard
When you your mouth, out drops a turd