Luyện nghe bài hát The Ballad of The Architect Angel

The architect angel juda ranch.
Just a dirty down on the borderline.
Where he mastered blastin' and hustled cattle for slaughter
And dated daughter.
From the aways to the attics and all across the plains
electric static of religious strain,
And though he was an addict, he wore scars on his veins.
Like a young girl holds her first pimp, he his Bible in.
desert bars and church bazaars, the hunger slowly came
With vulgar from vulgar places lookin' for a game.
Well, gun handles and chamber grease
And hydroplanes.
The bullets from tv silver, bearin' great cowboys' names.
Now 14 inches of gun barrel, smokin' from the lid,
Spurs on black bootheels, he said "they call me the brooklyn kid."
And in his lonely zenith nightmares, that's just what they did.
Oh, how he played out his scenes, on dreams.
Well, his holster slung low like a hot
back to his leg like he gonna do.
He was stompin' the step he called the twister.
His six-guns pumpin' through.
His tongue hung low sawdust scrapin' across the plains.
He crawled up the juda ranch.
And callin' the angel names.

And now the architect stood, in one hand 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 night the moon stretched light 'cross the plains,
As real cowboys sat around campfire flames,
And the wolf called as if to explain to his son
The way the was won.
The was finally won.
The way the was won.