Luyện nghe bài hát On The Streets I Ran

Ooh, a working-class face glares
At me the glass and lurches, oh
Forgive me, on the I ran
Turned sickness into, song

Streets of wet holes
On roads you can never
You have them
But, they always you
the day that you croak, it's no joke

Ooh, a working-class glares back
At me the glass and lurches, oh
me, on the street's I ran
Turned sickness into unpopular

And all these can do
Is to know the real you
And warn if you leave
You will kill or be killed which very nice

Here friendly
But friends
Oh, dear God when I
Be I should be?

And when the said
"One you will be dead"
I said, "No, not me, cannot be
God, take him, take them, take anyone

The stillborn, the
The infirmed, take
Take people Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania
spare me"