Luyện nghe bài hát The Edge Of Town

The cul-de-sac is a cruel place
It's a living rotting failure from a age
And if looking for the place that dreams go to die
It's not in the city, around the outside

You can mortgage your future for purity
And accept the sterility in for security
But no matter how many times you run from your
The same always re-appear

Day after day, it's all just
And the promised land just gets further
On dead lawns lie your father's dreams
flight, white blight, white screams

On these dead lawns, lie your dreams
Rum, Romanism And Tammany idealism is dead
Laughed off the at countless conventions
Laissez-faire is en vogue

It's silver tongue has heaven sent
One man, one vote, throw it
One land, one hope, throw it

When every looks the same
Born of blood
So don't fucking talk to me
Our tradition of
Who the fuck am I to believe in?