Luyện nghe bài hát Little People

(Mr J Medeiros)
Envision the of age
where the apparent
is that of a parrot to live in a cage
who the parents when decisions are made
to not listen and they got their fist in opposition to fair
be in your submission to rage
you became a the same way
the done gave way
inflicting the pain
your convicted and cant
recondition your brain your convinced you can change
understandably wishin tradition wont land you in a position
where you feelin the
lonely without a home, cus now your childs
a milestone like its the only tie you own
crying when your
hoping that God you, wondering if your kids do
no one should to live through
the violence that you through
the fight that's still you
its to make things right and free 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 must be a better way to me
i'm yelling till my ears can't me
into a that kills me

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

(Hook)

(Rez)
it was once said the
grass will weather and the flower will down
and every man will when his number gets called
but when a child takes his that type of logic don't work out a
a flower never chose to pluck its own out
and through out of the it gets so clear
the son i held dear i lost somewhere
between my work passion and a size casket
hard to mask these dreams keep flashing his
cold foot from a stainless steel table and
a white sheet stain with a mothers pain a
every day i wake to face feeling of pain
so i the scapegoat to easy this feeling of blame thinking
what kind of man am i? what kind of mother you?
what kind of life did we subject our to?
wishing i have listened i would have probably seen clues
praying for that his soul could sure use

(Hook)