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 what's to
What in name have we done?
Missiles springing up like
Doomsday subs patrol the
East and are poised to kill
me and Igor pay the bill

The war will never stop
Dogs will fight until drop
Poland to Afghanistan
A to the common man
But about the little men
Who have no given them
It seems unlikely they're the
Whose fingers twitch on guns

Little man, my
What makes you so much than me?
Could it be we're all the
Small fry in a game
I believe the one to
his schemes in bitter flames
Whose crushed the bourgeousie
To form their own

Stalin, Trotsky, and Lenin
the blessed hope from heaven
Pompous men lofty schemes
gnash their teeth with futile screams
But now godless legacy
Has festered long the sea
Implanted in the youth
They to know the lie as truth

So Father hear my cry
For millions doomed to die
Without You, when the rockets
Hurling them through door

Late at I sit and pray
Not always certain to say
"Peace on earth, to men" ?
Or "crush them Lord, better dead"?