Luyện nghe bài hát Little People

(Mr J Medeiros)
Envision the of age
the apparent disposition
is that of a commissioned to live in a cage
who hits the parents when are made
to not listen and they got their fist in to fair play
must be in submission to rage
you became a the same way
the done gave way
inflicting the same
your convicted and blame
recondition your brain till your convinced you can
wishin family tradition wont land you in a position
where you feelin the
lonely without a home, cus now childs grown
wearing a milestone its the only tie you own
crying when alone
hoping that God forgives you, wondering if your do
no one should to live through
the violence that you through
the fight still 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 that really wants to reach me
listen...mommy please...
there must be a better way to me
i'm yelling till my ears hear me
into a that kills me

(Stro)
there billy stands in twenty below gripping his
froze two hours ago
dramatic i know, but cold ain't it, seven olds waiting
takes another at a picture 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 got eleven year olds that blast at 'em
and the world tunes in just
listening to every word should have heard at age ten
then daddy wonders it all began
he could call you a father, but couldn't really ever call you a
you worked hard to provide a for good living
and you figured, all that you really had to give 'em
now, if you don't know know this
all work, no play, far cry, miss

(Hook)

(Rez)
it was once that the
grass will weather and the flower fall down
and every man will pass his number gets called
but when a takes his life that type of logic don't work out a
a flower never to pluck its own pedals out
and out of the tears it gets so clear
that the son i held dear i somewhere
my work passion and a child size casket
hard to when these dreams keep flashing his
foot hanging from a stainless steel table and
a white sheet with a mothers pain a grief
every day i wake to face this feeling of
so i milk the scapegoat to easy this feeling of blame
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 would have probably seen
praying for salvation that his soul sure use

(Hook)