Luyện nghe bài hát The Hand That Feeds

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Bắt đầu làm bài nào

I've seen men spoil,
Chained to their like hounds
They and sleep and work again
In their darkest nights, they
Their cries are a
To everyone
No man stand to work all of his days
And nothing at the end of them.

I've got no money but the
jangles in my pockets,
Reminding me how I have.
And as for time, I am
Powerless to it.
It rambling on
Like a mad, man.

My papa was a man
Traded in his
his dreams and all of his days
To the American Ruse
My papa gave me
in regret.
He all that he'd done
Would be for
If I in his steps.

I've got no but the change
jangles in my pockets,
Reminding me how I have.
And as for time, I am
to stop it.
It rambling on
a mad, wandering man.

My papa me how to howl,
How to my teeth and growl.
He me that the hand that feeds
Deserves to be when it beats.

He taught me how to my chains,
And money ain't worth a thing,
And that no man should get of my time than me
me

I may never be a man,
But I can
Make that I'm free.
I may be a rich man,
But the man
Will have me, never have me.

I may never be a man,
But I can
sure that I'm free.
I may never be a man,
But the man
never have me, never have me.

I've got no but the change
That in my pockets,
me how little I have.
And as for time,
As for
It's
It's