Luyện nghe bài hát The Blizzard

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

The snow started light, we thinking home
But thinking was by far the closest we'd get, we're
And what I had planned for the next days
Nothing more than a wish, still a call away

So we headed west, an our felt four
Till we had to sleep or just see anymore
And the man on the was probably home, it was late
And we were stranded on the at the Frederick, Super 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 it got thin
We walked a half a to the buffet, at the Holiday Inn

Six turned to twelve and twelve to forty-eight
We the gypsy's take shelter when they closed the interstate
We of Civil War, Pulp Fiction, and our escape
was shut down but for that 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 of manhood and there was no debate
Oh six lonely, lonely, lonely men at Frederick, Super 8
(It rhymes with 'debate' I ain't going back)