Luyện nghe bài hát The White Knuckle Express

This truck stop: rancid
A man with no hands
and the dog my leg bumps and grinds
It rains for out there
on mud and tar and air
and the fungus-lined gap between stinking

Pork-Eyes got him a brand new
He's gonna you
He ask you
and tell you it's all your fault

The cup runneth over, your to bless
on the white-knuckle

She is [grace?] naked, I see her face
She across me
I am wearing a and a tie

tuneful, cute and giving
See, that's how we our living
In a full of corpses, we'd smile and bounce on
Some say aimless bullshit
but come from big houses and budgets
and, although I don't look it, I'm getting really old

Pork-Eyes, in the of a sweet young girl:
gonna spill you, it better thrill you,
or he'll tear place apart
Pork-Eyes! going up! Feet-first, feet-first!
and the on that girl's thigh reads "Love = Hurt = Hate"--CHORUS

Pork-Eyes, he will your long hair tenderly in all the waterfront bars
where the wine and hollow talk-of-men will muffle things really, really are
and you'll go back to your room with him on your sandalled feet
to out minutes later, bleeding, torn above, torn underneath...