Luyện nghe bài hát I Shot A Warhol

I shot a
with my pistol
When the hit the hole
In the canvas it
Beautiful no frame
A face with no
Glass of cold fame
Chased it with slow

---

of cocaine
Cocktail and kill
Scenes from a bad
Lived out in real
Who plays the
one's the victim
Violent and
They their positions

Pride and ambition, the inside you
Tendencies to listen, even when you're to
Pry the details
Unmask the
Try to the cast
With acid
Mash your lips against a cold hard of
up stars and old role models

She the sorrow
So much she swallows
But to tomorrow
walk will she follow
Everybody needs to be
Execute him for the that he created
Death of a martyr
Fire
If the hate make you wanna die
Try

---

I shot a
Dead with my
the wind hit the hole
In the canvas it
Beautiful no frame
A face no name
full of cold fame
Chased it with slow

No to rise to
The side blinds you
with no aim
And its the fuel you "Eye" to
Steady with rifle
Pointed at idle
up the spot
With fallen rival

is the cycle
Replace the
The batch of faces
Can hate the famous
thinks that what they make is golden
When Lennon got
were thoughts of holding
What'cha do to impress the bitch
Which slow gets picked
you get that itch

If notice
you're climbing to the focus
Surround yourself with
and minded moments
Dark sticks, in whoever the biggest
Eye of the
Is dark, cold and
She you
she loves image
Let's tear it all
From the to the finish

---
I shot a
with my pistol
When the wind hit the
In the canvas it
Beautiful no frame
A with no name
full of cold fame
Chased it with slow

It's nothing but a pulse
If you just stop it
Your friends and folks
Can't adjust to what you're with
Accustomed to
Now the lust got you it
Eyes wide
Now your
No it

Travel down the barrel the light
Once in open
it's easy to lose
Don't look
You're bound to fall
If you do hit the
You're bound to back

The sound
She every single song
But everybody
Seemed to wanna sing
along
The belief that every is wrong
We all break in front of God
Before the of dawn

Open up the
To sex, drugs, and
Movies, songs,
Everything is on it
So we on it
Got a with your face on it
---
I a Warhol
Dead with my
When the wind hit the
In the it whistled
with no frame
A face no name
Glass full of fame
it with slow pain