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Bắt đầu làm bài nào

Over
In the
Stands the
His are old
He has seen a million ugly
where men droop with mould
The
Where goods are sold
Seen with opened eyes since frail
He has it hard at first
But on his there sits a curse
For when the must suffer
At the of men

of Christmas past
Were never to ever last
as were can never
Be

Over
By the
the Hustler
He's not very
trampled by the jaded by the sly

He's seen the side of men
First and then
He his urge to laugh
An to cry

He'll find close
No at all
He feels so lonely, and small
How few are from
The golden

There's in us all it seems
To adventure
Hunt for
But corruption the seducer our schemes
And surely as the snow will
The
Grabs his soul and for home
With learnt under his belt

Over
By the
the Hustler
the men of law
On side to flank the sallow youth
But of us will never learn
It the blow of fists to burn
How we suffer for the truth