Luyện nghe bài hát The Ballad of The Architect Angel

The architect angel held ranch.
Just a dirty mile on the borderline.
Where he mastered blastin' and young cattle for slaughter
And dated daughter.
From the 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 girl holds her first pimp, he held his Bible in.
From desert bars and church bazaars, the hunger came
With vulgar from vulgar places lookin' for a game.
Well, ivory gun and chamber grease
And hydroplanes.
The bullets from tv silver, bearin' great cowboys' names.
Now with 14 inches of gun barrel, from the lid,
Spurs on straight bootheels, he said "they call me the brooklyn kid."
And in his lonely zenith nightmares, well that's just they did.
Oh, how he played out his scenes, on dreams.
Well, his holster low like a hot kid-sister
Tied to his leg like he gonna do.
He was stompin' the he called the quickman twister.
His six-guns were through.
His tongue hung low like sawdust scrapin' the plains.
He crawled up the juda ranch.
And started 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 monsoon wind. fast. the job was done.
At night the moon stretched tight 'cross the plains,
As cowboys sat around real 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.