Luyện nghe bài hát Little People

(Mr J Medeiros)
Envision the of age
where the apparent
is that of a parrot commissioned to live in a
who hits the parents when decisions are
to not and they got their fist in opposition to fair play
must be in your to rage
you became a the same way
the done gave way
inflicting the same
your convicted and cant
recondition your brain till your convinced you can
understandably wishin family tradition land you in a position
you feelin the rain
lonely a home, cus now your childs grown
a milestone like its the only tie you own
crying when alone
hoping that God forgives you, if your kids do
no one should have to through
the violence you been through
the fight that's within you
its time to make things right and the child that lives in you.

(Hook)
me...see me...
do you even know i'm still
i to the sounds of a TV.
the only thing that wants to reach me
listen...mommy please...
there be a better way to raise me
i'm yelling till my can't hear me
into a that kills me

(Stro)
there billy stands in below gripping his coat
froze two hours ago
dramatic i know, but cold ain't it, seven year olds
takes look at a picture that lost time painted
we say put it away i can't at it
the truth a little when you look at it
creating a mold of bad habits
when the teacher got year olds that blast at 'em
and the world in just then
listening to every word daddy have heard at age ten
daddy wonders where it all began
he could call you a father, but couldn't ever call you a friend
you hard to provide a home for good living
and you figured, that's all you really had to give 'em
now, if you don't know much this
all work, no play, far cry, near

(Hook)

(Rez)
it was once said the
grass will weather and the flower will down
and every man will pass when his gets called
but when a child takes his that type of logic don't work out a
a flower chose to pluck its own pedals out
and through out of the tears it gets so
that the son i held dear i somewhere
between my work and a child size casket
hard to mask these dreams keep flashing his
cold foot from a stainless steel table and
a sheet stain with a mothers pain a grief
day i wake to face this feeling of pain
so i milk the scapegoat to easy this feeling of thinking
what kind of man am i? kind of mother were you?
what kind of did we subject our child to?
wishing i would have listened i have probably seen clues
praying for salvation that his soul could use

(Hook)