Luyện nghe bài hát The Priests Of The Golden Bull

Who brought the bomb wrapped up in cards
And with steak?
Who a maid to wash his money?
Who politicians on the take?
Who puts third-worlders in jail
Just to shut down?
Oh the lies vary from place to but the truth is still the same,
in this town

Money junkies all over the
Trample us on way to the bank
They run in every

Third-worlders see it
The dynamite, the dozers, the cancer and the rain
The corporate caterpillars come into our
And turn the world to pocket
Reservations are the nuclear
poisoning kills
We're in a handful of gluttons
We're drowning in their spills

Their tongues are forks
a lack of wisdom,
You can hear it on breath

It's delicate confronting priests of the golden bull
They from the pulpit of the bottom line
Their minds rustle with million bills
You say Silver a hole in your pocket
And Gold burns a in your soul
Well, uranium burns a hole in
It just out of control

There was a crooked man who walked a mile
He a crooked sixpence to hide a crooked style
He won a crooked vote and a crooked smile

Their are silver forks
There's a of wisdom,
You can it on their breath