Luyện nghe bài hát The Door-to-Door Inspector

The inspector, his knuckles bare and white,
is on your window
'cause he knows you're hiding here
He's travelled from the to your country slum
under rain and black
and the burnt-out sun

drop you where you stand
Lift the with his bare hands
and hand you his just demands
as you in your tiny corner

The door-to-door inspector now to eat his lunch
He scowls at week's paper
in the worker's cafe,
You made your choice mocking the ways of true grown men
Now may your protect you
as you this grevious punishment you've earned

He'll drop you where you
journey home to wash those hands
and to his bed trembling go
not spent, a man alone
(with his hand)