Luyện nghe bài hát Silence

No rest from the labor at the whip's end, when portraits of invade.
No rest from the stinging of the needles, when we covet highs.

We can't run from the when we live in the hive,
and the game is soon lost we pray to the skies.
We run from the storm under black clouded skies.
We can't run from the when live in the hive.

Are we to the silence, or the roar of the machines,
or the of the gavels, or the thunder of the crowds,
or the voices in our heads, or are we deaf from the