Luyện nghe bài hát The Ballad of The Architect Angel

The architect angel held ranch.
a dirty mile down on the borderline.
Where he mastered blastin' and hustled young for slaughter
And juda's daughter.
From the cellar aways to the attics and all across the
Broke static of religious strain,
And though he was never an addict, he wore on his veins.
Like a young girl holds her first pimp, he held his in.
From desert bars and church bazaars, the hunger came
vulgar faces 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 of gun barrel, smokin' from the lid,
Spurs on straight black bootheels, he said "they call me the kid."
And in his lonely zenith nightmares, well that's just they did.
Oh, how he out his scenes, loaded on dreams.
Well, his holster low like a hot kid-sister
Tied back to his leg like he do.
He was the step he called the quickman twister.
His were pumpin' through.
His tongue low like sawdust scrapin' across the plains.
He crawled up the juda ranch.
And callin' the angel names.

And now the architect angel stood, in one a staff, the other a gun.
He the staff high in the wind. the gun was like a piece in the sun.
He started howlin' like a wind. drew fast. the job was done.
At night the moon stretched light 'cross the plains,
As real cowboys sat around real 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.