Luyện nghe bài hát The White Knuckle Express

This truck rancid gravy
A man with no hands
and the dog 'round my leg and grinds
It rains for out there
on mud and tar and air
and the fungus-lined gap between towns

Pork-Eyes got him a new hand
He's gonna you
He ask you
and he'll tell you it's all your

The cup over, your jaws to bless
on the express

She is [grace?] naked, I cannot see her
She across me
I am a collar and a tie

tuneful, cute and giving
See, that's how we make our
In a hall full of corpses, smile and bounce on
Some say aimless bullshit
but they come from big houses and
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! We're up! Feet-first, feet-first!
and the legend on that girl's thigh reads "Love = = Hate"--CHORUS

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