Luyện nghe bài hát Suite For The Souls Of Our Enemies (part I: Hammer And Sickle)

Late at night I to sit
Alone, for one cigarette
Brooding over to come
in God's name have we done?
Missiles up like weeds
Doomsday patrol the seas
and west are poised to kill
While me and pay the bill

The war will never stop
Dogs will fight until they
From Poland to
A menace to the man
But what the little men
Who have no recourse given
It seems they're the ones
fingers twitch on willing guns

Little man, my
makes you so much worse than me?
Could it be we're all the
fry in a larger game
I believe the one to
Plans his schemes in bitter
Whose soldiers crushed the
To form own plutocracy

Stalin, Trotsky, Marx and
Scorned the hope from heaven
Pompous men with schemes
They gnash their teeth futile screams
But now their godless
Has long across the sea
Implanted in the youth
come to know the lie as truth

So Holy Father my cry
For untold doomed to die
You, when the rockets roar
Hurling through satan's door

at night I sit and pray
Not always what to say
"Peace on earth, to men" ?
Or "crush Lord, they're better dead"?