Luyện nghe bài hát The Priests Of The Golden Bull

Who the bomb wrapped up in business cards
And stained steak?
Who hires a maid to his money?
Who politicians on the take?
Who outspoken third-worlders in jail
Just to shut them
Oh the lies vary place to place but the truth is still the same,
Even in this

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

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

tongues are silver forks
There's a of wisdom,
You can hear it on their

It's delicate confronting these of the golden bull
They preach from the of the bottom line
Their minds rustle million dollar bills
You say Silver burns a in your pocket
And Gold a hole in your soul
Well, burns a hole in forever
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 smiled a crooked

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