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Bắt đầu làm bài nào

The judge sits on his assize
men wise with swollen thighs
Who ever told no lies
Whose minds were such a size
Whose lives ever such a prize
Whose brains answers just like flies
Whose answers stalked their thoughts spies
Whose lead through the courtroom flies
To rip a hole between two eyes
never ever wore disguise
And never ever saw blue
Who quickly lived now slowly
Who unopened otherwise
Well you can lead a to water
But you're gonna make him drink
And you can a man to slaughter
But you're gonna make him think
The critic rubs his arse
Scrapes his poor brains, and farts
And wields a pen stops and starts
And thinks in terms of and tarts
And there playing with his parts
He says I'm much too crude and far too
And he this singer's just a farce
got no healing formulas
He's got no cure-all for our
He's got no bra-strap for our
And our sagging tits no longer hold a house of hearts
And you know I don't think this little song's gonna make the charts
Well you can a horse to water
But never gonna make him drink
And you can a man to slaughter
But you're never make him think