Luyện nghe bài hát Production

This man may have a shit to prove
He's got to settle a score against the
orgasm, endless joy and pain
Like thunder to my ears, like a holy

An wall of waking, a wash in purple paint
And a of the flowers in your yard
Electric rays of healing the feeling
Of hatred the things you say I ain't

Fear a man-child, his soul and
Pathetic thoughts he forever
Heard you caused a landslide, home
Saw you the man-child under your coat

Product of your
Product of your
of a master plan
Product of a man

Product of
Product of decaying
Product of your mass
of, production, production