Luyện nghe bài hát Little People

(Mr J Medeiros)
Envision the of age
the apparent disposition
is that of a parrot commissioned to live in a
who hits the when decisions are made
to not listen and they got their fist in opposition to play
must be in your submission to
you became a the same way
the system done way
inflicting the pain
your convicted and blame
recondition your brain till your convinced you can
understandably wishin family tradition wont land you in a
where you the rain
lonely without a home, cus now childs grown
wearing a milestone its the only tie you own
crying when alone
hoping God forgives you, wondering if your kids do
no one should have to live
the violence that you been
the fight that's within you
its time to make things right and free the child that in you.

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

(Stro)
there stands in twenty below gripping his coat
that froze two ago
dramatic i know, but cold ain't it, seven olds waiting
takes look at a picture that lost time painted
we say put it away i can't at it
the truth stings a when you look at it
we're creating a mold of bad
the teacher got eleven year olds that blast at 'em
and the tunes in just then
listening to every word daddy should heard at age ten
daddy wonders where it all began
he could call you a father, but really ever call you a friend
you worked 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 know
all work, no play, far cry, near

(Hook)

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

(Hook)