Luyện nghe bài hát The Haves Have Naught

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

look at that toymaker grinding his gears
Turning no profit, but he doesn't
He keeps smiles on faces day day
The children keep sadness and at bay
bounding a pace
Searching for mercy in a place
a monster makes fodder from saints
And finds so worthless when they're full of grace, so full of grace
But better use of hookers and thieves
Than the wheels of perfect machines that hum into life?
A harmony of
But is the use of cutting them down
to smother, then choke the of our town?
I know there is way
But what is so wrong with giving purpose?
(Just how could leave out, degrading them without doubt?)
A man like yourself could, bring to the worthless
(Bleeding them dry, maybe they'll die you and I?)
Without the guidance of and tyrants
(And none of your guidance, the of the tyrants)
These people will 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 and so callous? So married to malice?