Luyện nghe bài hát The Ballad of The Architect Angel

The architect held juda ranch.
Just a dirty mile on the borderline.
Where he mastered blastin' and hustled young cattle for
And dated daughter.
the cellar aways to the attics and all across the plains
Broke electric static of strain,
And though he was never an addict, he scars on his veins.
Like a young girl holds her pimp, he held his Bible in.
desert bars and church bazaars, the hunger slowly came
With vulgar from vulgar places lookin' for a game.
Well, ivory gun handles and chamber
And hydroplanes.
The burn from tv silver, bearin' great cowboys' names.
Now with 14 inches of gun barrel, from the lid,
Spurs on straight black bootheels, he said "they me the brooklyn kid."
And in his lonely zenith nightmares, well just what they did.
Oh, how he out his scenes, loaded on dreams.
Well, his slung low like a hot kid-sister
Tied back to his leg he gonna do.
He was the step he called the quickman twister.
His six-guns pumpin' through.
His tongue hung low like sawdust scrapin' the plains.
He up outside the juda ranch.
And started the angel names.

And now the architect angel stood, in one a staff, the other a gun.
He held the staff high in the wind. the gun was 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 real flames,
And the county called as if to explain to his son
The way the was won.
The west was won.
The way the was won.