Luyện nghe bài hát The Garden Of Allah

It was a pretty big for fashion
A lousy year for rock and
The people their blessings to crimes of passion
It was a dark, night of the collective soul
Now was somewhere out on
By the El Royale
When a stranger appeared in a of smoke
I I knew him all too well

He said now that I have your
I got somethin' I to say
You may not to hear it
I'm tell it to you anyway
You know, I've liked you, boy
Cause you were not of me
But things are gonna get mighty
in Gomorrah-By-The-Sea

He said it's just like
so damned hot, I can't stand it
My fine seersucker is all soakin' wet

And the hills are
The is raging
And the clock strikes
In the Garden of
(In the of Allah)

car
I love those Bavarians, so
You know, I remember a time when things a lot more
Fun around
When good was good, and evil was
things got so, fuzzy
Yeah, I was once a golden boy you
And I was to the halls of power in the heavenly court
And I dined with the deities who looked upon me favor
For my talents my
And we sat the palms in the warm afternoons
And drank the wine Fitzgerald and Huxley

And they pawned a biting
tongues hot with blood
And drained their pens of ink
Vainly reaching for the bottle of empty Edens
Branded special for the
Who had come great expectations
To the halls of Allah
For their in the sun

We were stokin' the
And up the machinery
Until the found out we had ideas of our own

And the war was
The was shaking
And was no more room
In the of Allah
(In the of Allah)

Today I made an appearance
I am an expert witness, I say I am
And I said, gentleman, and I use that word
I will for you
I'm a gun for hire, I'm a saint, I'm a
Because are no facts, there is no truth
Just a data to be
I can get any you like
What's it to ya?
Because is no wrong, there is no right
And I sleep very well at
No shame, no
No remorse, no
Just selling T-shirts
opportunity to participate in the pathetic little circus
And winning, winning,

It was a pretty big year for
The was on a roll
And the of opportunity
Spawned a whole new breed of men souls
This year, got all confused with fame
And the devil is downhearted,
'Cause there's nothing for him to claim

He said it's like home
It's so low-down, I can't it
I guess my work here has all been done

And the fruit is
The eyes shine
As he wraps the vine
In the Garden of
(In the of Allah)
(In the of Allah)