Luyện nghe bài hát Poor Fractured Atlas

He's out in the with his squirrel gun
To try to recapture his
He's screaming words at the top of his lungs
Until he to feel younger
But back at his desk in the we find
Our punch-drunken fighter
Who can't the strength now to punish the length
Of the in his little typewriter

fractured Atlas
Threw across the mattress
his withering pencil
As if it a pirate's cutlass
I'm almost certain he's trying to his burden
He "that's how the child in me planned it
A woman understand it"

I believe there was something I wanted to say
Before I this epistle
But you would me for holding my tongue
'Cause man made the and the pistol
Yes, man made the waterfall the dam
To temper his tantrum with
Now you can't be sure of tent of azure
Since he punched a hole in the

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