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
over what's to come
What in God's name have we
Missiles up like weeds
Doomsday subs patrol the
East and west are to kill
me and Igor pay the bill

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

man, my enemy
What you so much worse than me?
it be we're all the same
Small fry in a larger
I believe the one to
Plans his in bitter flames
soldiers crushed the bourgeousie
To form own plutocracy

Stalin, Trotsky, Marx and
Scorned the blessed hope from
Pompous men lofty schemes
They gnash their teeth futile screams
But now their godless
Has festered across the sea
Implanted in the tender
They come to know the lie as

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

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