Luyện nghe bài hát Poor Fractured Atlas

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

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

I believe there was something I wanted to say
Before I conclude epistle
But you would me for holding my tongue
'Cause man made the and the pistol
Yes, man made the over the dam
To temper his tantrum magic
Now you be sure of that tent of azure
Since he a hole in the fabric

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