Luyện nghe bài hát The Jungle Line

Rousseau walks on trumpet
Safaris to the heart of all that
I bars and girders, through wires and pipes
The mathematic circuits of the nights

Through huts, through Harlem, jails and gospel pews
Through the class on and the trash on vine
Europe and the deep, deep heart 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 shuck and
eat a working girl like her alive

With his eye and his steady hand
He the cellar full of ferns and orchid vines
And he hangs a moon above a band
He it up above the jungle line

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

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

There's a poppy wreath on a tomb
a poppy snake in a dressing room
Poppy poison, poppy
It slithers away on brass like mouthpiece

And metal skin and ivory
Go steaming up to vines
They go up to Brooklyn Bridge
Steaming, steaming, up the jungle line