Luyện nghe bài hát Poor Fractured Atlas

He's out in the woods with his gun
To try to his anger
He's screaming some at the top of his lungs
he begins to feel younger
But back at his desk in the city we
Our punch-drunken fighter
Who can't find the strength now to the length
Of the in his little typewriter

Poor Atlas
Threw across the mattress
Waving his withering
As if it a pirate's cutlass
I'm certain he's trying to increase his burden
He said "that's how the child in me it
A woman wouldn't it"

I believe there was something that I to say
Before I conclude this
But you would me for holding my tongue
'Cause man made the and the pistol
Yes, man made the over the dam
To his tantrum with magic
Now you can't be sure of that tent of
he punched a hole in the fabric

Poor fractured
Threw across the mattress
Waving his withering
As if it were a pirate's
I'm certain he's trying to increase his burden
He "that's how the child in me planned it
A woman wouldn't it
A wouldn't understand it
A woman wouldn't it"