Luyện nghe bài hát Motorcycle Landscape

Modern Hanging grown from Babylon seeds.
While rust pram baby batter covered in weeds.
The grass on the verge has gone old grey
And the children in bag clothes won't hurt you if you pay.

For is a doll's 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.
And it thinks it found a chance to drown in a motorcycle landscape.

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

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

Gaily as we skip through fields of needless wire.
Glued up in high spirits throw kittens on the fire.
And down alley, the stabbed all roll in bliss.
Surely God would never send his son to a world like

For there is a arm floating in the scum
And it's 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 drown another in a landscape.