Luyện nghe bài hát The Haves Have Naught

Just look at that shopkeeper his wares
his sales pitch but nobody cares
Don't you wonder keeps him there day after day
Begging for gold as his hair turns to
Blindly they're a pace
Starving for in a merciless place
a fool would make martyrs from heathens
And find them so lively they're barely breathing, just barely breathing

Just look at that toymaker grinding his
Turning no profit, but he doesn't
He smiles on faces day after day
The children keep sadness and at bay
Blissfully a pace
Searching for mercy in a merciless
Only a monster makes from saints
And finds them so worthless when they're of grace, so full of grace
But what better use of hookers and
Than the wheels of perfect machines that hum into life?
A harmony of
But what is the use of cutting them
to smother, then choke the soul of our
I there is another way
But what is so with giving them purpose?
(Just how could leave them out, degrading them doubt?)
A man like yourself could, worth to the worthless
(Bleeding them dry, they'll die like you and I?)
Without the of rulers and tyrants
(And none of guidance, the hands of the tyrants)
These will just tear themselves apart.
Just look at that steeped in deceit
A threat to the young, to the old, and the
Don't you wonder made him so vicious, so sick?
So far out of balance, so cruel and so So married to malice?