Luyện nghe bài hát Light Pollution

John A. Hobson was a man
He used to me books and mic stands
He got me a subscription
To the Review

Listening to records in his
Old songs about the government
It's of money not the market
He said these fuckers on you

And yells, it don't cry
Whatever sells will
But there's no hell you die
So don't so worried

He got a life, lost his day job
Pushing papers, pendulums
Anything to serve a
Or to occupy time

You gotta earn this somehow
You're good as dead a bank account
But funny how alive he has felt down
In that line

With all that trash at his
The pools of piss in the
All of that filthy
For the way we're

Don't
Don't
Don't

The shade
The they wave
The anthem's playing
The baseball game was out

And all at
You saw the and heard
Every tiny
Got in his and turned around

Drove out the crowd and the cops
out past that center mall
Drove out that sickening sprawl
Out past that in gold

And maybe he control
Fucking with the
But I bet the seem so close
At the end

At the end
At the end
At the end
...