Luyện nghe bài hát The White Knuckle Express

This truck rancid gravy
A man with no hands
and the dog 'round my leg bumps and
It rains for miles out
on mud and tar and air
and the gap between stinking towns

got him a brand new hand
He's grasp you
He ask you
and he'll tell you it's all fault

The cup runneth over, your to bless
on the express

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

We're tuneful, and giving
See, that's how we make our
In a hall of corpses, we'd smile and bounce on
Some say it's bullshit
but they come big houses and budgets
and, although I don't look it, I'm getting really old

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

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