Luyện nghe bài hát Junta

What we wage
in the of day,
left decaying
for the to see.

Conakry,
September, two nine.
Dadis,
junta chief, not resign
his
to democratic law.
band
to that he withdraw.

trapped.

gather,
drawn.
Fire.

Butchery veiled in gas,
bayonettes eyes.
Flesh strewn the grass,
knives sever from thighs.
Women with gun barrels,
bullet a childs head,
of humans feral
as haul away the dead.

Red berets,
guard,
murder-crazed,
a scarred.
they loot,
ribs snap
boot.
wrapped.

du
jamais-vu,
said.

nous,
they
to god.
At the morgue a
out her son.
No were found.
A desperate
for his gun,
his daughter
in an base,
used by in turn,
til a discerned
her face,
and, shamed, set her
free.

She no word to her doctor,
for fear her disgrace her kin.
For she dared not sleep or dream.

Camara blame for the atrocity:
The militarys my control.
The of his guard drew a pistol
and fired a round in the
skull.

He survives,
abdicates.
A of

compete in
truly
vote.

the year.

unclear.
Will of the
Guineans
Cond.

The suicide,
the son found,
the alive.
The alive.