Luyện nghe bài hát The Ballad of The Architect Angel

The architect held juda ranch.
Just a mile down on the borderline.
Where he blastin' and hustled young cattle for slaughter
And dated daughter.
From the cellar aways to the attics and all across the
Broke electric static of strain,
And he was never an addict, he wore scars on his veins.
Like a girl holds her first pimp, he held his Bible in.
From desert bars and church bazaars, the slowly came
With vulgar faces from vulgar places for a game.
Well, ivory gun and chamber grease
And hydroplanes.
The burn from tv silver, bearin' great cowboys' names.
Now with 14 inches of gun barrel, smokin' the lid,
on straight black bootheels, he said "they call me the brooklyn kid."
And in his lonely zenith nightmares, well that's just they did.
Oh, how he out his scenes, loaded on dreams.
Well, his slung low like a hot kid-sister
Tied to his leg like he gonna 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 started the angel names.

And now the architect angel stood, in one a staff, the other a gun.
He held the 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 tight light 'cross the plains,
As real cowboys sat around real 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.