Luyện nghe bài hát Pocket

Here comes
His trousers hold a thousand sins
The things we ever found in bins
He clutches them and at you and grins

Here pockets
The children wary of what may contain
The linen may have changed, the same
A trouser treasure with no name

And at the platform that the timetable forgot
Picking up tickets in a station of have nots
When you are on train of thought
You pass pretty funky stops
When you are on that of thought
You pass some funky stops
the pocket, let him be
the pocket, let him be

Here comes
up the things we cannot see
A bicycle, a dame, a tree
Things of no to you or me

comes the pocket
Reduced history to just a crawl
History turns the into the small
But natural born trawlers love to

And the guitar of his dreams hangs upon some
Or underneath the staircase in a hall
We can carry dreams but we hold them all
That's why we learn the before we actually fall
the pocket, let him be
the pocket, let him be

And he's clinging on to
the oak tree to the gale
'Cause finding one letter in a sky high jumble sale
Is one single reason, why the will not fail