Luyện nghe bài hát The Ballad of The Architect Angel

The architect held juda ranch.
Just a mile down on the borderline.
Where he mastered blastin' and hustled young cattle for
And juda's daughter.
From the cellar to the attics and all across the plains
Broke electric of religious strain,
And though he was never an addict, he wore on his veins.
Like a young holds her first pimp, he held his Bible in.
From desert bars and bazaars, the hunger slowly came
With vulgar faces from vulgar places for a game.
Well, ivory gun handles and chamber
And hydroplanes.
The bullets burn from tv silver, bearin' cowboys' names.
Now with 14 of gun barrel, smokin' from the lid,
Spurs on black bootheels, he said "they call me the brooklyn kid."
And in his zenith nightmares, well that's just what they did.
Oh, how he played out his scenes, on dreams.
Well, his holster slung low like a hot
Tied back to his leg like he do.
He was stompin' the he called the quickman twister.
His six-guns were through.
His tongue low like sawdust scrapin' across the plains.
He crawled up the juda ranch.
And started the angel names.

And now the architect stood, in one hand a staff, the other a gun.
He the staff high in the wind. the gun was like a piece in the sun.
He howlin' like a monsoon wind. drew fast. the job was done.
At the moon stretched tight light 'cross the plains,
As real cowboys sat around campfire flames,
And the county wolf called as if to to his son
The way the was won.
The was finally won.
The way the was won.