Luyện nghe bài hát The Priests Of The Golden Bull

Who brought the bomb up in business cards
And with steak?
Who hires a maid to his money?
Who keeps on the take?
Who puts third-worlders in jail
Just to shut them
Oh the lies vary place to place but the truth is still the same,
Even in town

Money junkies all the world
us on their way to the bank
They run in race

Third-worlders see it
The dynamite, the dozers, the cancer and the acid
The caterpillars come into our backyards
And turn the to pocket change
Reservations are the frontline;
poisoning kills
We're starving in a of gluttons
We're drowning in gravy spills

Their tongues are forks
There's a of wisdom,
You can hear it on breath

It's delicate confronting these priests of the bull
They preach from the pulpit of the line
Their rustle with million dollar bills
You say Silver burns a in your pocket
And burns a hole in your soul
Well, uranium burns a hole in
It gets out of control

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

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