Luyện nghe bài hát The Blizzard

10th Street don't run in a straight
We played on the part we find
And a musky old man, had a cup in his
He's the unofficial doorman, he helped down the cabs

The snow light, we thinking about home
But thinking was by far the closest we'd get, alone
And what I had planned for the couple days
more than a wish, still a phone call away

So we headed west, an our felt like
Till we had to sleep or couldn't see anymore
And the man on the corner was probably home, it was
And we were stranded on the highway at the Frederick, 8
(Lost on the highway, I ain't going back no, no, no)

10 inches, twelve, fifteen,
Then the went out, we just sang songs then got bored
Tempers were short when the food it got
We walked a half a to the buffet, at the Holiday Inn

Six hours turned to and twelve to forty-eight
We watched the gypsy's take when they closed the interstate
We spoke of Civil War, Fiction, and our escape
Everything was shut down but for Frederick, Super 8
(Don't apologize, just me my fuckin' sandwich)

on the highway on the side of the road
Kicking feet up to lighten the load
There was a contest of manhood and was no debate
Oh six lonely, lonely, lonely men at that Frederick, 8
(It with 'debate' I ain't never going back)