Luyện nghe bài hát Motorcycle Landscape

Modern Hanging Gardens from Babylon seeds.
While rust pram batter sculptures covered in weeds.
The grass on the has gone old pubic grey
And the children in cement bag clothes won't you if you pay.

For there is a arm floating in the scum
And it's calling you while it's calling you a bum.
And it beckons you to brown. And it you to brown.
And it thinks it found a chance to drown another in a landscape.

The only thing that orchards bear are nails of red.
On the pavement and contraceptives trodden dead.
All that we can reap are gurlie magazines.
Torn out cigarette burn, girls not in their teens.

For there is a arm floating in the scum
And it's calling you over it's calling you a bum.
And it you to brown. And it beckons you to brown.
For it thinks it found a chance to drown in a motorcycle landscape.

Gaily as we skip along through of needless wire.
Glued up youths in high throw kittens on the fire.
And molester alley, the stabbed all roll in bliss.
Surely God would never send his son to a world this?

For there is a doll's arm in the scum
And calling you over while it's calling you a bum.
And it beckons you to brown. And it you to brown.
For it thinks it found a chance to another in a motorcycle landscape.