Luyện nghe bài hát Poor Fractured Atlas

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

Poor Atlas
Threw himself across the
Waving his withering
As if it were a pirate's
I'm certain he's trying to increase his burden
He said "that's how the child in me it
A woman understand it"

I believe there was that I wanted to say
Before I conclude epistle
But you would forgive me for my tongue
'Cause man made the blade and the
Yes, man made the waterfall the dam
To temper his tantrum with
Now you can't be of that tent of azure
Since he a hole in the fabric

Poor Atlas
Threw himself across the
Waving his pencil
As if it a pirate's cutlass
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 woman understand it
A woman understand it"