Luyện nghe bài hát The Jungle Line

Rousseau walks on paths
Safaris to the heart of all jazz
Through I and girders, through wires and pipes
The mathematic circuits of the modern

Through huts, through Harlem, through jails and pews
Through the on park and the trash on vine
Through Europe and the deep, deep of Dixie blue
Through savage progress cuts the line

In a low-cut blouse she the beer
Rousseau paints a jungle flower her ear
Those cannibals of and jive
They'll eat a girl like her alive

With his eye and his steady hand
He paints the cellar full of and orchid vines
And he hangs a moon above a five-piece
He hangs it up the jungle line

The jungle line, the line
in a ritual of sound and time
Floating, drifting on the air-conditioned
And for a taste of something smuggled in

Pretty women funneled valves and smoke
Coy and bitchy, wild and
And charging elephants and chanting slaving
Charging, chanting the jungle line

There's a wreath on a soldier's tomb
There's a poppy snake in a dressing
poison, poppy tourniquet
It slithers away on like mouthpiece spit

And metal skin and birds
Go steaming up to Rousseau's
go steaming up to Brooklyn Bridge
Steaming, steaming, steaming up the line