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

Late at I used to sit
Alone, for one last
Brooding over what's to
What in God's have we done?
springing up like weeds
Doomsday patrol the seas
East and west are poised to
While me and pay the bill

The war machine never stop
Dogs will until they drop
From to Afghanistan
A to the common man
But what the little men
Who have no given them
It seems unlikely the ones
Whose fingers twitch on willing

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

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

So Holy Father my cry
For untold millions to die
Without You, when the rockets
Hurling them satan's door

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