Luyện nghe bài hát Plan A

Just when we were seventeen
We said wed move to Malta, claim
And now we are twenty-three
tethered to the running track
Evenings to the dish rack

I'm called up to the Maltese national
My vision is impeccable, my first is obscene
A world cup finds me fifty, forty, thirty yards from goal
A late sub on in an off the striker

Was it wind? Did it a bad deflection?
A decade spent nursing a fear that you might never it
The crowd draws breathe at once it swerves to the top
The Sunday tabloid declares me the new kind of Malta

With my name on shirts, face on the cash
That every week piles inside our bank account
We'd rule the roost and we could a family
I think we'd make a hundred million bucks

I head down to the mint and tell
Pound every coin deep into the
Burn note in circulation
There's a new face on the currency of our

I hand a photograph of you
The most thing they'd ever seen
The press a rolling, your image on Euros
The workforce retires to the

my name on shirts, your face on the cash
That every week just piles inside our bank
We'd the roost and we could start a family
I think we'd make about a hundred bucks

With my name on shirts, face on the cash
That every week just piles inside our bank
We'd the roost and we could start a family
I think we'd make about a hundred million