Luyện nghe bài hát The Priests Of The Golden Bull

Who brought the bomb wrapped up in cards
And with steak?
Who hires a maid to wash his
Who keeps politicians on the
Who outspoken third-worlders in jail
Just to shut them
Oh the lies from place to place but the truth is still the same,
Even in this

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

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

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

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

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

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